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THE  WRITINGS    OF 
HARRIET  BEECHER   STOWE 

IN  SIXTEEN  VOLUMES 
VOLUME  II 


Copyright,  1851,  1878,  and  1879, 
BY  HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE. 

Copyright,  1895  and  189G, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghtou  &  Co. 


CONTENTS   OF   VOLUME  II.  \ 

PAGB 

UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN. 

XXII.  THE  GRASS  WITHERETH  — THE  FLOWER  FADETH       .  1 

XXIII.  HENRIQUE 11 

XXIV.  FORESHADOWINGS 21 

XXV.  THE  LITTLE  EVANGELIST 29 

XXVI.   DEATH 36 

XXVII.  "Tms  is  THE  LAST  OF  EARTH"        ....  53 

XXVIII.  REUNION 63 

XXIX.  THE  UNPROTECTED 82 

XXX.  THE  SLAVE  WAREHOUSE 92 

XXXI.  THE  MIDDLE  PASSAGE 105 

XXXII.   DARK  PLACES 113 

XXXIII.  CASSY 124 

XXXIV.  THE  QUADROON'S  STORY 134 

XXXV.   THE  TOKENS 148 

XXXVI.  EMMELTNE  AND  GASSY 156 

XXXVII.  LIBERTY 165 

XXXVIII.   THE  VICTORY 173 

XXXIX.   THE  STRATAGEM    .                186 

XL.   THE  MARTYR 199 

XLI.   THE  YOUNG  MASTER 208 

XLII.  AN  AUTHENTIC  GHOST  STORY 216 

XLIII.  RESULTS 224 

XLIV.   THE  LIBERATOR         ....                ...  234 

XLV.   CONCLUDING  REMARKS 239 

A  KEY  TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN. 

PREFACE 253 

PART  I. 

CHAP.  1 255 

II.  MR.  HALEY 256 

III.  MR.  AND  MRS.  SHELBY 260 

IV.  GEORGE  HARRIS 263 

V.   ELIZA 269 

VI.   UNCLE  TOM 273 

VII.   Miss  OPHELIA .        .  277 


505 


VI  CONTENTS 

VIII.  MARIE  ST.  CLARE 280 

IX.  ST.  CLARE 285 

X.  LEGREE 288 

XL  SELECT  INCIDENTS  OF  LAWFUL  TRADE     ...  293 

XII.  TOPSY 297 

XIII.  THE  QUAKERS 301 

XIV.  THE  SPIRIT  OF  ST.  CLARE 303 

PART  II. 

CHAP.  1 304 

II.  WHAT  is  SLAVERY  ? 308 

III.  SOUTHER  v.  THE    COMMONWEALTH  —  THE    NE  PLUS 

ULTRA  OF  LEGAL  HUMANITY 312 

IV.  PROTECTIVE  STATUTES 3-21 

V.  PROTECTIVE  ACTS  OF  SOUTH  CAROLINA  AND  LOUISI 
ANA  —  THE  IRON  COLLAR  OF  LOUISIANA  AND  NORTH 
CAROLINA 328 

VI.  PROTECTIVE  ACTS  WITH  REGARD  TO  FOOD  AND  RAI 
MENT,  LABOR,  ETC 332 

VII.  THE  EXECUTION  OF  JUSTICE 335 

VIII.  THE  GOOD  OLD  TIMES 345 

IX.  MODERATE  CORRECTION  AND  ACCIDENTAL  DEATH  — 

STATE  v.  CASTLEMAN 345 

X.  PRINCIPLES    ESTABLISHED.  —  STATE    v.    LEGREE  ;    A 

CASE  NOT  IN  THE  BOOKS 345 

XI.  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  JUSTICE  OVER  LAW     .        .        .        347 
XII.  A  COMPARISON  OF  THE   ROMAN  LAW   OF   SLAVERY 

WITH  THE  AMERICAN 347 

XIII.  THE  MEN  BETTER  THAN  THEIR  LAWS      .        .        .        348 

XIV.  THE    HEBREW    SLAVE   LAW    COMPARED    WITH    THE 

AMERICAN  SLAVE  LAW 357 

XV.  SLAVERY  is  DESPOTISM 357 

PART  III. 

CHAP.  I.  DOES  PUBLIC  OPINION  PROTECT  THE  SLAVE?    .        .  361 

II.  PUBLIC  OPINION  FORMED  BY  EDUCATION       .        .  366 

III.  SEPARATION  OF  FAMILIES 371 

IV.  THE  SLAVE-TRADE 387 

V.  SELECT   INCIDENTS    OF    LAWFUL   TRADE,  OR  FACTS 

STRANGER   THAN   FICTION 394 

VI.   THE  EDMONDSONS 395 

VII.  THE  CASE  OF  EMILY  RUSSELL 427 

VIII.   KIDNAPPING 427 

IX.   SLAVES  AS  THEY  ARE,  ON  TESTIMONY  OF  OWNERS  .  428 

X.  POOR  WHITE  TRASH    .  431 


CONTENTS  Vii 
PART  IV. 

CHAP.  I.  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  AMERICAN  CHURCH  ON  SLA 
VERY 437 

II.  How  THE  CHURCHES  REGARDED  THE  DEFENCE  OF 

SLAVERY 443 

III.  MARTYRDOM 449 

IV.  SERVITUDE  IN  THE    PRIMITIVE  CHURCH  COMPARED 

WITH  AMERICAN  SLAVERY 449 

V.  TEACHINGS  AND  CONDITION  OF  THE  APOSTLES  .        .  449 

VI.  APOSTOLIC  TEACHING  ON  EMANCIPATION  .        .        .  449 

VII.  ABOLITION  OF  SLAVERY  BY  CHRISTIANITY  .        .        .  449 

VIII.  JUSTICE  AND  EQUITY  VERSUS  SLAVERY    ...  450 

IX.  Is  THE  SYSTEM  OF  RELIGION  WHICH  is  TAUGHT  THE 

SLAVE  THE  GOSPEL? 450 

X.  WHAT  is  TO  BE  DONE  ? 450 

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  ACCOUNT  OF  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN    .        .       .  455 

The  frontispiece  ("I  wish  I  could  help  you,  Tom,"  p.  310)  is  from  a 
drawing  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 
The  vignette  (The  Cabin)  is  from  a  drawing  by  E.  W.  Kemble. 


UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

OR 

LIFE  AMONG  THE  LOWLY 


CHAPTER   XXII 

"  THE     GRASS     WITHERETH  —  THE     FLOWER     FADETH  " 

LIFE  passes  with  us  all  a  day  at  a  time ;  so  it  passed  with 
our  friend  Tom,  till  two  years  were  gone.  Though  parted 
from  all  his  soul  held  dear,  and  though  often  yearning  for 
what  lay  beyond,  still  was  he  never  positively  and  con 
sciously  miserable ;  for,  so  well  is  the  harp  of  human  feel 
ing  strung,  that  nothing  but  a  crash  that  breaks  every  string 
can  wholly  mar  its  harmony  ;  and,  on  looking  back  to  seasons 
which  in  review  appear  to  us  as  those  of  deprivation  and 
trial,  we  can  remember  that  each  hour  as  it  glided  brought 
its  diversions  and  alleviations,  so  that,  though  not  happy 
wholly,  we  were  not,  either,  wholly  miserable. 

Tom  read,  in  his  only  literary  cabinet,  of  one  who  had 
"learned  in  whatsoever  state  he  was,  therewith  to  be  con 
tent.'7  It  seemed  to  him  good  and  reasonable  doctrine,  and 
accorded  well  with  the  settled  and  thoughtful  habit  which 
he  had  acquired  from  the  reading  of  that  same  book. 

His  letter  homeward,  as  we  related  in  the  last  chapter, 
was  in  due  time  answered  by  Master  George,  in  a  good, 
round,  school-boy  hand,  that  Tom  said  might  be  read  "  most 
acrost  the  room."  It  contained  various  refreshing  items  of 

VOL.  II. 


2  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

home  intelligence,  with  which  our  reader  is  fully  ac 
quainted  ;  stated  how  Aunt  Chloe  had  been  hired  out  to  a 
confectioner  in  Louisville,  where  her  skill  in  the  pastry  line 
was  gaining  wonderful  sums  of  money,  all  of  which,  Tom 
was  informed,  was  to  be  laid  up  to  go  to  make  up  the  sum 
of  his  redemption  money  ;  Mose  and  Pete  were  thriving, 
and  the  baby  was  trotting  all  about  the  house,  under  the 
care  of  Sally  and  the  family  generally. 

Tom's  cabin  was  shut  up  for  the  present ;  but  George 
expatiated  brilliantly  on  ornaments  and  additions  to  be 
made  to  it  when  Tom  came  back. 

The  rest  of  this  letter  gave  a  list  of  George's  school 
studies,  each  one  headed  by  a  nourishing  capital ;  and  also 
told  the  names  of  four  new  colts  that  appeared  on  the  pre 
mises  since  Tom  left ;  and  stated,  in  the  same  connection, 
that  father  and  mother  were  well.  The  style  of  the  letter 
was  decidedly  concise  and  terse  ;  but  Tom  thought  it  the 
most  wonderful  specimen  of  composition  that  had  appeared 
in  modern  times.  He  was  never  tired  of  looking  at  it,  and 
even  held  a  council  with  Eva  on  the  expediency  of  getting 
it  framed,  to  hang  up  in  his  room.  Nothing  but  the  diffi 
culty  of  arranging  it  so  that  both  sides  of  the  page  would 
show  at  once  stood  in  the  way  of  this  undertaking. 

The  friendship  between  Tom  and  Eva  had  grown  with 
the  child's  growth.  It  would  be  hard  to  say  what  place 
she  held  in  the  soft,  impressible  heart  of  her  faithful  attend 
ant.  He  loved  her  as  something  frail  and  earthly,  yet 
almost  worshiped  her  as  something  heavenly  and  divine. 
He  gazed  on  her  as  the  Italian  sailor  gazes  on  his  image  of 
the  child  Jesus,  —  with  a  mixture  of  reverence  and  tender 
ness  ;  and  to  humor  her  graceful  fancies,  and  meet  those 
thousand  simple  wants  which  invest  childhood  like  a  many- 
colored  rainbow,  was  Tom's  chief  delight.  In  the  market, 
at  morning,  his  eyes  were  always  on  the  flower-stalls  for 
rare  bouquets  for  her,  and  the  choicest  peach  or  orange  was 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  3 

slipped  into  his  pocket  to  give  to  her  when  he  came  back  ; 
and  the  sight  that  pleased  him  most  was  her  sunny  head 
looking  out  the  gate  for  his  distant  approach,  and  her  child 
ish  question,  —  "  Well,  Uncle  Tom,  what  have  you  got  for 
me  to-day  ?  " 

Nor  was  Eva  less  zealous  in  kind  offices  in  return. 
Though  a  child,  she  was  a  beautiful  reader ;  —  a  fine  musi 
cal  ear,  a  quick  poetic  fancy,  and  an  instinctive  sympathy 
with  what  is  grand  and  noble,  made  her  such  a  reader  of 
the  Bible  as  Tom  had  never  before  heard.  At  first,  she 
read  to  please  her  humble  friend  ;  but  soon  her  own  earnest 
nature  threw  out  its  tendrils,  and  wound  itself  around  the 
majestic  book ;  and  Eva  loved  it,  because  it  woke  in  her 
strange  yearnings,  and  strong,  dim  emotions,  such  as  impas 
sioned,  imaginative  children  love  to  feel. 

The  parts  that  pleased  her  most  were  the  Revelation  and 
the  Prophecies,  —  parts  whose  dim  and  wondrous  imagery 
and  fervent  language  impressed  her  the  more  that  she 
questioned  vainly  of  their  meaning  ;  and  she  and  her  simple 
friend,  the  old  child  and  the  young  one,  felt  just  alike 
about  it.  All  that  they  knew  was,  that  they  spoke  of  a 
glory  to  be  revealed,  —  a  wondrous  something  yet  to  come? 
wherein  their  soul  rejoiced,  yet  knew  not  why ;  and  though 
it  be  not  so  in  the  physical,  yet  in  moral  science  that  which 
cannot  be  understood  is  not  always  profitless.  For  the  soul 
awakes,  a  trembling  stranger,  between  two  dim  eternities,  — 
the  eternal  past,  the  eternal  future.  The  light  shines  only 
on  a  small  space  around  her ;  therefore,  she  needs  must 
yearn  towards  the  unknown ;  and  the  voices  and  shadowy 
movings  which  come  to  her  from  out  the  cloudy  pillar  of 
inspiration  have  each  one  echoes  and  answers  in  her  own  ex 
pecting  nature.  Its  mystic  imageries  are  so  many  talismans 
and  gems  inscribed  with  unknown  hieroglyphics  ;  she  folds 
them  in  her  bosom,  and  expects  to  read  them  when  she 
passes  beyond  the  veil. 


4  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 

At  this  time  in  our  story,  the  whole  St.  Clare  establish 
ment  is,  for  the  time  being,  removed  to  their  villa  on  Lake 
Pontchartrain.  The  heats  of  summer  had  driven  all  who 
were  able  to  leave  the  sultry  and  unhealthy  city,  to  seek 
the  shores  of  the  lake  and  its  cool  sea-breezes. 

St.  Clare's  villa  was  an  East-Indian  cottage,  surrounded 
by  light  verandas  of  bamboo-work,  and  opening  on  all  sides 
into  gardens  and  pleasure  grounds.  The  common  sitting- 
room  opened  on  to  a  large  garden,  fragrant  with  every  pic 
turesque  plant  and  flower  of  the  tropics,  where  winding 
paths  ran  down  to  the  very  shores  of  the  lake,  whose  silvery 
sheet  of  water  lay  there,  rising  and  falling  in  the  sunbeams, 
—  a  picture  never  for  an  hour  the  same,  yet  every  hour 
more  beautiful. 

It  is  now  one  of  those  intensely  golden  sunsets  which 
kindles  the  whole  horizon  into  one  blaze  of  glory,  and 
makes  the  water  another  sky.  The  lake  lay  in  rosy  or 
golden  streaks,  save  where  white-winged  vessels  glided 
hither  and  thither,  like  so  many  spirits,  and  little  golden 
stars  twinkled  through  the  glow,  and  looked  down  at  them 
selves  as  they  trembled  in  the  water. 

Tom  and  Eva  were  seated  on  a  little  mossy  seat,  in  an 
arbor,  at  the  foot  of  the  garden.  It  was  Sunday  evening, 
and  Eva's  Bible  lay  open  on  her  knee.  She  read,  "  And  I 
saw  a  sea  of  glass,  mingled  with  fire." 

"Tom,"  said  Eva,  suddenly  stopping,  and  pointing  to 
the  lake  ;  "  there  't  is." 

"  What,  Miss  Eva  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  see,  —  there  ?  "  said  the  child,  pointing  to 
the  glassy  water,  which,  as  it  rose  and  fell,  reflected  the 
golden  glow  of  the  sky.  "  There 's  a  '  sea  of  glass,  mingled 
with  fire.'  " 

"True  enough,  Miss  Eva,"  said  Tom;  and  Tom  sang:  — 

"  Oh,  had  I  the  wings  of  the  morning, 
I'd  fly  away  to  Canaan's  shore  ; 


LIFE   AMONG  THE  LOWLY  5 

Bright  angels  should  convey  me  home, 
To  the  new  Jerusalem." 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  new  Jerusalem  is,  Uncle  Tom  ?  " 
said  Eva. 

"  Oh,  up  in  the  clouds,  Miss  Eva.'7 

"  Then  I  think  I  can  see  it,"  said  Eva.  "  Look  in 
those  clouds  !  —  they  look  like  great  gates  of  pearl ;  and 
you  can  see  beyond  them,  —  far,  far  off,  —  it 's  all  gold. 
Tom,  sing  about  '  spirits  bright.' ': 

Tom  sung  the  words  of  a  well-known  Methodist  hymn  :  — 

"  I  see  a  band  of  spirits  bright, 

That  taste  the  glories  there  ; 
They  all  are  robed  in  spotless  white, 
And  conquering  palms  they  bear." 

"  Uncle  Tom,  I  've  seen  them"  said  Eva. 

Tom  had  no  doubt  of  it  at  all ;  it  did  not  surprise  him 
in  the  least.  If  Eva  had  told  him  she  had  been  to  heaven, 
he  would  have  thought  it  entirely  probable. 

"  They  come  to  me  sometimes  in  my  sleep,  those  spirits  ;  " 
and  Eva's  eyes  grew  dreamy,  and  she  hummed,  in  a  low 
voice,  — 

"  They  all  are  robed  in  spotless  white, 
And  conquering  palms  they  bear." 

"  Uncle  Tom,"  said  Eva,  "  I  'm  going  there." 

"  Where,  Miss  Eva  ?  " 

The  child  rose,  and  pointed  her  little  hand  to  the  sky ; 
the  glow  of  evening  lit  her  golden  hair  and  flushed  cheek 
with  a  kind  of  unearthly  radiance,  and  her  eyes  were  bent 
earnestly  on  the  skies. 

"  I  'm  going  there,"  she  said,  "  to  the  spirits  bright, 
Tom;  I'm  going  before  long" 

The  faithful  old  heart  felt  a  sudden  thrust ;  and  Tom 
thought  how  often  he  had  noticed,  within  six  months,  that 
Eva's  little  hands  had  grown  thinner,  and  her  skin  more 
transparent,  and  her  breath  shorter;  and  how,  when  she 


C  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

ran  or  played  in  the  garden,  as  she  once  could  for  hours, 
she  became  soon  so  tired  and  languid.  He  had  heard  Miss 
Ophelia  speak  often  of  a  cough,  that  all  her  medicaments 
could  not  cure  ;  and  even  now  that  fervent  cheek  and  little 
hand  were  burning  with  hectic  fever  ;  and  yet  the  thought 
that  Eva's  words  suggested  had  never  come  to  him  till  now. 

Has  there  ever  been  a  child  like  Eva  ?  Yes,  there  have 
been ;  but  their  names  are  always  on  gravestones,  and  their 
sweet  smiles,  their  heavenly  eyes,  their  singular  words  and 
ways,  are  among  the  buried  treasures  of  yearning  hearts. 
In  how  many  families  do  you  hear  the  legend  that  all  the 
goodness  and  graces  of  the  living  are  nothing  to  the  peculiar 
charms  of  one  who  is  not !  It  is  as  if  Heaven  had  an 
especial  band  of  angels,  whose  office  it  was  to  sojourn  for  a 
season  here,  and  endear  to  them  the  wayward  human  heart, 
that  they  might  bear  it  upward  with  them  in  their  home 
ward  flight.  When  you  see  that  deep,  spiritual  light  in  the 
eye,  —  when  the  little  soul  reveals  itself  in  words  sweeter 
and  wiser  than  the  ordinary  words  of  children,  —  hope  not 
to  retain  that  child  ;  for  the  seal  of  Heaven  is  on  it,  and 
the  light  of  immortality  looks  out  from  its  eyes. 

Even  so,  beloved  Eva  !  fair  star  of  thy  dwelling  !  Thou 
art  passing  away ;  but  they  that  love  thee  dearest  know  it 
not. 

The  colloquy  between  Tom  and  Eva  was  interrupted  by 
a  hasty  call  from  Miss  Ophelia. 

"  Eva  —  Eva  !  —  why,  child,  the  dew  is  falling  ;  you 
must  n't  be  out  there  !  " 

Eva  and  Tom  hastened  in. 

Miss  Ophelia  was  old  and  skilled  in  the  tactics  of  nurs 
ing.  She  was  from  New  England,  and  knew  well  the  first 
guileful  footsteps  of  that  soft,  insidious  disease,  which 
sweeps  away  so  many  of  the  fairest  and  loveliest,  and, 
before  one  fibre  of  life  seems  broken,  seals  them  irrevocably 
for  death. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  7 

She  had  noted  the  slight,  dry  cough,  the  daily  brighten 
ing  cheek ;  nor  could  the  lustre  of  the  eye,  and  the  airy 
buoyancy  born  of  fever,  deceive  her. 

She  tried  to  communicate  her  fears  to  St.  Clare ;  but  he 
threw  back  her  suggestions  with  a  restless  petulance,  unlike 
his  usual  careless  good  humor. 

"  Don't  be  croaking,  cousin,  —  I  hate  it !  "  he  would  say  ; 
"  don't  you  see  that  the  child  is  only  growing  ?  Children 
always  lose  strength  when  they  grow  fast." 

"  But  she  has  that  cough  !  " 

"  Oh,  nonsense  of  that  cough  !  —  it  is  not  anything.  She 
has  taken  a  little  cold,  perhaps.'7 

"  Well,  that  was  just  the  way  Eliza  Jane  was  taken,  and 
Ellen  and  Maria  Sanders." 

"  Oh,  stop  these  hobgoblin  nurse-legends.  You  old  hands 
get  so  wise  that  a  child  cannot  cough  or  sneeze  but  you  see 
desperation  and  ruin  at  hand.  Only  take  care  of  the  child, 
keep  her  from  the  night  air,  and  don't  let  her  play  too 
hard,  and  she  '11  do  well  enough." 

So  St.  Clare  said ;  but  he  grew  nervous  and  restless.  He 
watched  Eva  feverishly  day  by  day,  as  might  be  told  by  the 
frequency  with  which  he  repeated  over  that  "  the  child  was 
quite  well,"  -  -  that  there  was  n't  anything  in  that  cough, 
—  it  was  only  some  little  stomach  affection,  such  as  children 
often  had.  But  he  kept  by  her  more  than  before,  took  her 
oftener  to  ride  with  him,  brought  home  every  few  days 
some  receipt  or  strengthening  mixture, —  "not,"  he  said, 
"  that  the  child  needed  it,  but  then  it  would  not  do  her  any 
harm." 

If  it  must  be  told,  the  thing  that  struck  a  deeper  pang 
to  his  heart  than  anything  else  was  the  daily  increasing 
maturity  of  the  child's  mind  and  feelings.  While  still 
retaining  all  a  child's  fanciful  graces,  yet  she  often  dropped, 
unconsciously,  words  of  such  a  reach  of  thought  and  strange 
unworldly  wisdom  that  they  seemed  to  be  an  inspiration. 


UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

At  such  times,  St.  Clare  would  feel  a  sudden  thrill,  and 
clasp  her  in  his  arms,  as  if  that  fond  clasp  could  save  her ; 
and  his  heart  rose  up  with  wild  determination  to  keep  her, 
never  to  let  her  go. 

The  child's  whole  heart  and  soul  seemed  absorbed  in 
works  of  love  and  kindness.  Impulsively  generous  she  had 
always  been;  but  there  was  a  touching  and  womanly 
thoughtfulness  about  her  now,  that  every  one  noticed.  She 
still  loved  to  play  with  Topsy  and  the  various  colored 
children ;  but  she  now  seemed  rather  a  spectator  than  an 
actor  of  their  plays,  and  she  would  sit  for  half  an  hour  at 
a  time  laughing  at  the  odd  tricks  of  Topsy,  —  and  then  a 
shadow  would  seem  to  pass  across  her  face,  her  eyes  grew 
misty,  and  her  thoughts  were  afar. 

"Mamma,"  she  said  suddenly  to  her  mother  one  day, 
"  why  don't  we  teach  our  servants  to  read  ?  " 

"  What  a  question,  child  !      People  never  do." 

"Why  don't  they  ?  "  said  Eva. 

"  Because  it  is  no  use  for  them  to  read.  It  don't  help 
them  to  work  any  better,  and  they  are  not  made  for  any 
thing  else." 

"  But  they  ought  to  read  the  Bible,  mamma,  to  learn 
God's  will." 

"  Oh,  they  can  get  that  read  to  them  all  they  need." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  mamma,  the  Bible  is  for  every  one  to 
read  themselves.  They  need  it  a  great  many  times  when 
there  is  nobody  to  read  it." 

"  Eva,  you  are  an  odd  child,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Miss  Ophelia  has  taught  Topsy  to  read,"  continued 
Eva. 

"  Yes,  and  you  see  how  much  good  it  does.  Topsy  is 
the  worst  creature  I  ever  saw  !  " 

"  Here  's  poor  Mammy  !  "  said  Eva.  "  She  does  love 
the  Bible  so  much,  and  wishes  so  she  could  read  !  And 
what  will  she  do  when  I  can't  read  to  her  ?  " 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY 

Marie  was  busy  turning  over  the  contents  of  a  drawer, 
as  she  answered,  — 

"  Well,  of  course,  by  and  by,  Eva,  you  will  have  other 
things  to  think  of  besides  reading  the  Bible  round  to  ser 
vants.  Not  but  that  is  very  proper  ;  I  've  done  it  myself, 
when  I  had  health.  But  when  you  come  to  be  dressing  and 
going  into  company,  you  won't  have  time.  See  here  ! "  she 
added,  "  these  jewels  I  'm  going  to  give  you  when  you  come 
out.  I  wore  them  to  my  first  ball.  I  can  tell  you,  Eva,  I 
made  a  sensation." 

Eva  took  the  jewel-case,  and  lifted  from  it  a  diamond 
necklace.  Her  large,  thoughtful  eyes  rested  on  them,  but 
it  was  plain  her  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

"  How  sober  you  look,  child  !  "  said  Marie. 

"  Are  these  worth  a  great  deal  of  money,  mamma  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  they  are.  Father  sent  to  France  for  them. 
They  are  worth  a  small  fortune.'7 

"  I  wish  I  had  them,"  said  Eva,  "  to  do  what  I  pleased 
with  !  " 

"  What  would  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  I  'd  sell  them,  and  buy  a  place  in  the  free  States,  and 
take  all  our  people  there,  and  hire  teachers,  to  teach  them 
to  read  and  write." 

Eva  was  cut  short  by  her  mother's  laughing. 

"  Set  up  a  boarding-school !  Would  n't  you  teach  them 
to  play  on  the  piano  and  paint  on  velvet  ?  " 

"  I  'd  teach  them  to  read  their  own  Bible,  and  write  their 
own  letters,  and  read  letters  that  are  written  to  them,"  said 
Eva  steadily.  "  I  know,  mamma,  it  does  come  very  hard 
on  them,  that  they  can't  do  these  things.  Tom  feels  it. 
Mammy  does,  —  a  great  many  of  them  do.  I  think  it 's 
wrong." 

"  Come,  come,  Eva  ;  you  are  only  a  child !  You  don't 
know  anything  about  these  things,"  said  Marie  ;  "  besides, 
your  talking  makes  my  head  ache." 


10  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

Marie  always  had  a  headache  on  hand  for  any  conversa 
tion  that  did  not  exactly  suit  her. 

Eva  stole  away  ;  but  after  that,  she  assiduously  gave 
Mammy  reading  lessons. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE  LOWLY  11 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

HENRIQUE 

ABOUT  this  time,  St.  Clare's  brother  Alfred,  with  his 
eldest  son,  a  boy  of  twelve,  spent  a  day  or  two  with  the 
family  at  the  lake. 

No  sight  could  be  more  singular  and  beautiful  than  that 
of  these  twin  brothers.  Nature,  instead  of  instituting 
resemblances  between  them,  had  made  them  opposites  on 
every  point ;  yet  a  mysterious  tie  seemed  to  unite  them  in 
a  closer  friendship  than  ordinary. 

They  used  to  saunter,  arm  in  arm,  up  and  down  the 
alleys  and  walks  of  the  garden,  —  Augustine,  with  his  blue 
eyes  and  golden  hair,  his  ethereally  flexible  form  and  viva 
cious  features ;  and  Alfred,  dark-eyed,  with  haughty  Roman 
profile,  firmly  knit  limbs,  and  decided  bearing.  They  were 
always  abusing  each  other's  opinions  and  practices,  and  yet 
never  a  whit  the  less  absorbed  in  each  other's  society ;  in 
fact,  the  very  contrariety  seemed  to  unite  them,  like  the 
attraction  between  opposite  poles  of  the  magnet. 

Henrique,  the  eldest  son  of  Alfred,  was  a  noble  dark- 
eyed,  princely  boy,  full  of  vivacity  and  spirit ;  and,  from 
the  first  moment  of  introduction,  seemed  to  be  perfectly 
fascinated  by  the  spirituelle  graces  of  his  cousin  Evangeline. 

Eva  had  a  little  pet  pony,  of  a  snowy  whiteness.  It 
was  easy  as  a  cradle,  and  as  gentle  as  its  little  mistress ; 
and  this  pony  was  now  brought  up  to  the  back  veranda  by 
Tom,  while  a  little  mulatto  boy  of  about  thirteen  led  along 
a  small  black  Arabian,  which  had  just  been  imported  at  a 
great  expense  for  Henrique. 


12  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

Henrique  had  a  boy's  pride  in  his  new  possession;  and  as 
he  advanced,  and  took  the  reins  out  of  the  hands  of  his  little 
groom,  he  looked  carefully  over  him,  and  his  brow  darkened. 

"What's  this,  Dodo,  you  little  lazy  dog  !  you  haven't 
rubbed  my  horse  down  this  morning." 

"  Yes,  Mas'r,"  said  Dodo  submissively ;  "  he  got  that 
dust  on  his  own  self." 

"  You  rascal,  shut  your  mouth !  "  said  Henrique,  vio 
lently  raising  his  riding-whip.  "  How  dare  you  speak  ?  " 

The  boy  was  a  handsome,  bright-eyed  mulatto,  of  just 
Henrique's  size,  and  his  curling  hair  hung  round  a  high 
bold  forehead.  He  had  white  blood  in  his  veins,  as  could 
be  seen  by  the  quick  flush  in  his  cheek  and  the  sparkle  of 
his  eye,  as  he  eagerly  tried  to  speak. 

"  Mas'r  Henrique  "  —  he  began. 

Henrique  struck  him  across  the  face  with  his  riding- 
whip,  and,  seizing  one  of  his  arms,  forced  him  on  to  his 
knees,  and  beat  him  till  he  was  out  of  breath. 

"  There,  you  impudent  dog  !  Now  will  you  learn  not  to 
answer  back  when  I  speak  to  you  ?  Take  the  horse  back, 
and  clean  him  properly.  I  '11  teach  you  your  place  ! " 

"  Young  Mas'r,"  said  Tom,  "  I  specs  what  he  was  gwine 
to  say  was,  that  the  horse  would  roll  when  he  was  bringing 
him  up  from  the  stable  ;  he  's  so  full  of  spirits,  —  that 's 
the  way  he  got  that  dirt  on  him  ;  I  looked  to  his  cleaning." 

"You  hold  your  tongue  till  you're  asked  to  speak!" 
said  Henrique,  turning  on  his  heel,  and  walking  up  the 
steps  to  speak  to  Eva,  who  stood  in  her  riding-dress. 

"  Dear  cousin,  I  'm  sorry  this  stupid  fellow  has  kept  you 
waiting,"  he  said.  "  Let  's  sit  down  here,  on  this  seat,  till 
they  come.  What 's  the  matter,  cousin  ?  —  you  look  sober." 

"  How  could  you  be  so  cruel  and  wicked  to  poor  Dodo  ?  " 
said  Eva. 

"  Cruel,  —  wicked  !  "  said  the  boy,  with  unaffected  sur 
prise.  "  What  do  you  mean,  dear  Eva  ?  " 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  13 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  call  me  dear  Eva,  when  you  do 
so/7  said  Eva, 

"  Dear  cousin,  you  don't  know  Dodo  ;  it  is  the  only  way 
to  manage  him,  he  's  so  full  of  lies  and  excuses.  The  only 
way  is  to  put  him  down  at  once,  —  not  let  him  open  his 
mouth  ;  that  ?s  the  way  papa  manages." 

"  But  Uncle  Tom  said  it  was  an  accident,  and  he  never 
tells  what  is  n't  true." 

"  He  's  an  uncommon  old  nigger,  then  !  "  said  Henrique. 
"  Dodo  will  lie  as  fast  as  he  can  speak." 

"  You  frighten  him  into  deceiving,  if  you  treat  him  so." 

"  Why,  Eva,  you  7ve  really  taken  such  a  fancy  to  Dodo 
that  I  shall  he  jealous." 

"But  you  beat  him,  —  and  he  did  n't  deserve  it." 

"  Oh,  well,  it  may  go  for  some  time  when  he  does,  and 
don't  get  it.     A  few  cuts  never  come  amiss  with  Dodo,  — 
he  's  a  regular  spirit,  I  can  tell  you ;   but  I  won't  beat  him 
again  before  you,  if  it  troubles  you." 

Eva  was  not  satisfied,  but  found  it  in  vain  to  try  to  make 
her  handsome  cousin  understand  her  feelings. 

Dodo  soon  appeared  with  the  horses. 

"  Well,  Dodo,  you  've  done  pretty  well  this  time,"  said 
his  young  master,  with  a  more  gracious  air.  "  Come,  now, 
and  hold  Miss  Eva's  horse,  while  I  put  her  on  the  saddle." 

Dodo  came  and  stood  by  Eva's  pony.  His  face  was 
troubled,  his  eyes  looked  as  if  he  had  been  crying. 

Henrique,  who  valued  himself  on  his  gentlemanly  adroit 
ness  in  all  matters  of  gallantry,  soon  had  his  fair  cousin  in 
the  saddle,  and,  gathering  the  reins,  placed  them  in  her 
hands. 

But  Eva  bent  to  the  other  side  of  the  horse,  where  Dodo 
was  standing,  and  said,  as  he  relinquished  the  reins,  — 
"  That 's  a  good  boy,  Dodo  ;  —  thank  you  !  " 

Dodo  looked  up  in  amazement  into  the  sweet  young  face  ; 
the  blood  rushed  to  his  cheeks,  and  tears  to  his  eyes. 


14  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"  Here,  Dodo,"  said  his  master  imperiously. 

Dodo  sprang  and  held  the  horse,  while  his  master 
mounted. 

"  There  's  a  picayune  for  you  to  buy  candy  with,  Dodo," 
said  Henrique  ;  "  go  get  some." 

And  Henrique  cantered  down  the  walk  after  Eva.  Dodo 
stood  looking  after  the  two  children.  One  had  given  him 
money ;  and  one  had  given  him  what  he  wanted  far  more, 
—  a  kind  word,  kindly  spoken.  Dodo  had  been  only  a  few 
months  away  from  his  mother.  His  master  had  bought  him 
at  a  slave  warehouse,  for  his  handsome  face,  to  be  a  match 
to  the  handsome  pony  ;  and  he  was  now  getting  his  break 
ing  in,  at  the  hands  of  his  young  master. 

The  scene  of  the  beating  had  been  witnessed  by  the  two 
brothers  St.  Clare,  from  another  part  of  the  garden. 

Augustine's  cheek  flushed  ;  but  he  only  observed  with 
his  usual  sarcastic  carelessness,  — 

"  I  suppose  that 's  what  we  may  call  republican  education, 
Alfred  ?  " 

"  Henrique  is  a  devil  of  a  fellow,  when  his  blood  's  up," 
said  Alfred  carelessly. 

"  I  suppose  you  consider  this  an  instructive  practice  for 
him,"  said  Augustine  dryly. 

"  I  could  n't  help  it,  if  I  did  n't.  Henrique  is  a  regular 
little  tempest ;  —  his  mother  and  I  have  given  him  up  long 
ago.  But,  then,  that  Dodo  is  a  perfect  sprite  —  no  amount 
of  whipping  can  hurt  him." 

"  And  this  by  way  of  teaching  Henrique  the  first  verse 
of  a  republican's  catechism,  'All  men  are  born  free  and 
equal ! '  " 

"  Poh  !  "  said  Alfred ;  "  one  of  Tom  Jefferson's  pieces  of 
French  sentiment  and  humbug.  It  ?s  perfectly  ridiculous  to 
have  that  going  the  rounds  among  us,  to  this  day." 

"  I  think  it  is,"  said  St.  Clare  significantly. 

"  Because,"  said  Alfred,  "  we  can  see  plainly  enough  that 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  15 

all  men  are  not  bom  free  nor  born  equal ;  they  are  born 
anything  else.  For  my  part,  I  think  half  this  republican 
talk  sheer  humbug.  It  is  the  educated,  the  intelligent,  the 
wealthy,  the  refined,  who  ought  to  have  equal  rights,  arid 
not  the  canaille." 

"If  you  can  keep  the  canaille  of  that  opinion/'  said 
Augustine.  "  They  took  their  turn  once,  in  France. " 

"  Of  course,  they  must  be  keptdoivn,  consistently,  steadily, 
as  I  should"  said  Alfred,  setting  his  foot  down  hard,  as  if 
he  were  standing  on  somebody. 

"  It  makes  a  terrible  slip  when  they  get  up/7  said  Augus 
tine,  —  "  in  St.  Domingo,  for  instance." 

"  Poh  !  "  said  Alfred,  "  we  '11  take  care  of  that,  in  this 
country.  We  must  set  our  face  against  all  this  educating, 
elevating  talk,  that  is  getting  about  now  ;  the  lower  class 
must  not  be  educated." 

"  That  is  past  praying  for,"  said  Augustine  ;  "  educated 
they  will  be,  and  we  have  only  to  say  how.  Our  system  is 
educating  them  in  barbarism  and  brutality.  We  are  break 
ing  all  humanizing  ties,  and  making  them  brute  beasts  ;  and, 
if  they  get  the  upper  hand,  such  we  shall  find  them." 

"  They  never  shall  get  the  upper  hand !  "  said  Alfred. 

"  That 's  right,"  said  St.  Clare  ;  "  put  on  the  steam,  fasten 
down  the  escape- valve,  and  sit  on  it,  and  see  where  you  '11 
land." 

"  Well,"  said  Alfred,  "  we  will  see.  1 7m  not  afraid  to 
sit  on  the  escape- valve,  as  long  as  the  boilers  are  strong  and 
the  machinery  works  well." 

"  The  nobles  in  Louis  XVI. 's  time  thought  just  so  ;  and 
Austria  and  Pius  IX.  think  so  now  ;  and,  some  pleasant 
morning,  you  may  all  be  caught  up  to  meet  each  other  in 
the  air,  when  the  boilers  burst" 

"  Dies  declarabit,"  said  Alfred,  laughing. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  Augustine,  "if  there  is  anything  that 
is  revealed  with  the  strength  of  a  divine  law  in  our  times,  it 


16  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

is  that  the  masses  are  to  rise,  and  the  under  class  become  the 
upper  one." 

"  That  's  one  of  your  red  republican  humbugs,  Augustine  ! 
Why  did  n't  you  ever  take  to  the  stump  ;  —  you  'd  make  a 
famous  stump  orator !  Well,  I  hope  I  shall  be  dead  before 
this  millennium  of  your  greasy  masses  comes  on.'7 

"  Greasy  or  not  greasy,  they  will  govern  you,  when  their 
time  comes,"  said  Augustine;  "and  they  will  be  just' 
such  rulers  as  you  make  them.  The  French  noblesse  chose 
to  have  the  people  '  sans  culotte,  and  they  had  '  sans 
culotte'  governors  to  their  hearts'  content.  The  people  of 
Hayti "  - 

"  Oh,  come,  Augustine,  as  if  we  had  n't  had  enough  of 
that  abominable,  contemptible  Hayti !  The  Haytiens  were 
not  Anglo-Saxons  ;  if  they  had  been,  there  would  have  been 
another  story.  The  Anglo-Saxon  is  the  dominant  race  of 
the  world,  and  is  to  be  so.7' 

"  Well,  there  is  a  pretty  fair  infusion  of  Anglo-Saxon 
blood  among  our  slaves  now,"  said  Augustine.  "  There  are 
plenty  among  them  who  have  only  enough  of  the  African  to 
give  a  sort  of  tropical  warmth  and  fervor  to  our  calculating 
firmness  and  foresight.  If  ever  the  San  Domingo  hour 
comes,  Anglo-Saxon  blood  will  lead  on  the  day.  Sons  of 
white  fathers,  with  all  our  haughty  feelings  burning  in  their 
veins,  will  not  always  be  bought  and  sold  and  traded.  They 
will  rise,  and  raise  with  them  their  mother's  race." 

"Stuff!— nonsense!" 

"  Well,"  said  Augustine,  "  there  goes  an  old  saying  to 
this  effect :  '  As  it  was  in  the  days  of  Noah,  so  shall  it 
be  ;  they  ate,  they  drank,  they  planted,  they  builded,  and 
knew  not  till  the  flood  came  and  took  them.' " 

"  On  the  whole,  Augustine,  I  think  your  talents  might 
do  for  a  circuit-rider,"  said  Alfred,  laughing.  "  Never  you 
fear  for  us  ;  possession  is  our  nine  points.  We  've  got  the 
power.  This  subject  race,"  said  he,  stamping  firmly,  "  is 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  17 

down,  and  shall  stay  down  !     We  have  energy  enough  to 
manage  our  own  powder." 

"  Sons  trained  like  your  Henrique  will  be  grand  guar 
dians  of  your  powder-magazines,"  said  Augustine,  —  "  so 
cool  and  self-possessed  !  The  proverb  says,  '  They  that  can 
not  govern  themselves  cannot  govern  others/  " 

"  There  is  a  trouble  there,"  said  Alfred  thoughtfully  ; 
"  there  's  no  doubt  that  our  system  is  a  difficult  one  to  train 
children  under.  It  gives  too  free  scope  to  the  passions 
altogether,  which,  in  our  climate,  are  hot  enough.  I  find 
trouble  with  Henrique.  The  boy  is  generous  and  warm 
hearted,  but  a  perfect  fire-cracker  when  excited.  I  believe 
I  shall  send  him  North  for  his  education,  where  obedience 
is  more  fashionable,  and  where  he  will  associate  more  with 
equals  and  less  with  dependants." 

"  Since  training  children  is  the  staple  work  of  the  human 
race,"  said  Augustine,  "  I  should  think  it  something  of  a 
consideration  that  our  system  does  not  work  well  there." 

"  It  does  not  for  some  things,"  said  Alfred  ;  "  for  others, 
again,  it  does.  It  makes  boys  manly  and  courageous  ;  and 
the  very  vices  of  an  abject  race  tend  to  strengthen  in  them 
the  opposite  virtues.  I  think  Henrique,  now,  has  a  keener 
sense  of  the  beauty  of  truth,  from  seeing  lying  and  decep 
tion  the  universal  badge  of  slavery." 

"  A  Christian-like  view  of  the  subject,  certainly  !  "  said 
Augustine. 

"  It 's  true,  Christian-like  or  not ;  and  is  about  as  Chris 
tian-like  as  most  other  things  in  the  world,'7  said  Alfred. 

"  That  may  be,"  said  St.  Clare. 

"  Well,  there 's  no  use  in  talking,  Augustine.  I  believe 
we  've  been  round  and  round  this  old  track  five  hundred 
times,  more  or  less.  What  do  you  say  to  a  game  of  back 
gammon  ?  " 

The  two  brothers  ran  up  the  veranda  steps,  and  were 
soon  seated  at  a  light  bamboo  stand,  with  the  backgam- 

VOL.  II. 


18  UNCLE   TOM'S  CABIN  ;    OR 

mon-board  between  them.  As  they  were  setting  their  men, 
Alfred  said,  — 

"  I  tell  you,  Augustine,  if  I  thought  as  you  do,  I  should 
do  something." 

"  I  dare  say  you  would,  —  you  are  one  of  the  doing 
sort,  —  but  what  ?  " 

"  Why,  elevate  your  own  servants,  for  a  specimen,"  said 
Alfred,  with  a  half-scornful  smile. 

u  You  might  as  well  set  Mount  ./Etna  on  them  flat,  and 
tell  them  to  stand  up  under  it,  as  tell  me  to  elevate  my 
servants  under  all  the  superincumbent  mass  of  society  upon 
them.  One  man  can  do  nothing  against  the  whole  action 
of  a  community.  Education,  to  do  anything,  must  be  a 
state  education ;  or  there  must  be  enough  agreed  in  it  to 
make  a  current." 

"  You  take  the  first  throw,"  said  Alfred  ;  and  the  bro 
thers  were  soon  lost  in  the  game,  and  heard  no  more  till 
the  scraping  of  horses'  feet  was  heard  under  the  veranda. 

"  There  come  the  children,"  said  Augustine,  rising. 
"Look  here,  Alf  !  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  beauti 
ful  ?  "  And,  in  truth,  it  was  a  beautiful  sight.  Henrique, 
with  his  bold  brow,  and  dark,  glossy  curls,  and  glowing 
cheek,  was  laughing  gayly,  as  he  bent  towards  his  fair 
cousin  as  they  came  on.  She  was  dressed  in  a  blue  riding- 
dress,  with  a  cap  of  the  same  color.  Exercise  had  given  a 
brilliant  hue  to  her  cheeks,  and  heightened  the  effect  of  her 
singularly  transparent  skin  and  golden  hair. 

"  Good  heavens  !  what  perfectly  dazzling  beauty  !  "  said 
Alfred.  "  I  tell  you,  Auguste,  won't  she  make  some  hearts 
ache  one  of  these  days  ?  " 

"  She  will,  too  truly,  — God  knows  I  'm  afraid  so  !  "  said 
St.  Clare,  in  a  tone  of  sudden  bitterness,  as  he  hurried  down 
to  take  her  off  her  horse. 

"  Eva,  darling  !  you  're  not  much  tired  ?  "  he  said,  as  he 
clasped  her  in  his  arms. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  19 

"  No,  papa,"  said  the  child  ;  but  her  short,  hard  breathing 
alarmed  her  father. 

"  How  could  you  ride  so  fast,  dear  ?  —  you  know  it  ?s 
bad  for  you.'7 

"  I  felt  so  well,  papa,  and  liked  it  so  much,  I  forgot." 

St.  Clare  carried  her  in  his  arms  into  the  parlor,  and  laid 
her  on  the  sofa. 

"  Henrique,  you  must  be  careful  of  Eva,"  said  he ;  "  you 
must  n't  ride  fast  with  her." 

"  I  '11  take  her  under  my  care,"  said  Henrique,  seating 
himself  by  the  sofa,  and  taking  Eva's  hand. 

Eva  soon  found  herself  much  better.  Her  father  and 
uncle  resumed  their  game,  and  the  children  were  left  to 
gether. 

"  Do  you  know,  Eva,  I  'm  so  sorry  papa  is  only  going  to 
stay  two  days  here,  and  then  I  sha'n't  see  you  again  for  ever 
so  long !  If  I  stay  with  you,  I  'd  try  to  be  good,  and  not 
be  cross  to  Dodo,  and  so  on.  I  don't  mean  to  treat  Dodo 
ill  ;  but,  you  know,  I  've  got  such  a  quick  temper.  I  'm 
not  really  bad  to  him,  though.  I  give  him  a  picayune  now 
and  then ;  and  you  see  he  dresses  well.  I  think,  on  the 
whole,  Dodo  's  pretty  well  off." 

"  Would  you  think  you  were  well  off,  if  there  were  not 
one  creature  in  the  world  near  you  to  love  you  ?  " 

"I?  — Well,  of  course  not." 

"  And  you  have  taken  Dodo  away  from  all  the  friends  he 
ever  had,  and  now  he  has  not  a  creature  to  love  him  ;  — 
nobody  can  be  good  that  way." 

"  Well,  I  can't  help  it,  as  I  know  of.  I  can't  get  his 
mother,  and  I  can't  love  him  myself,  nor  anybody  else,  as  I 
know  of." 

"  Why  can't  you  ?  "  said  Eva. 

"  Love  Dodo  !  Why,  Eva,  you  would  n't  have  me  !  I 
may  like  him  well  enough ;  but  you  don't  love  your  ser 
vants." 


20  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  I  do,  indeed." 

"  How  odd  !  " 

"  Don't  the  Bible  say  we  must  love  everybody  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  Bible !  To  be  sure,  it  says  a  great  many  such 
things ;  but,  then,  nobody  ever  thinks  of  doing  them,  —  you 
know,  Eva,  nobody  does." 

Eva  did  not  speak ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  and  thoughtful 
for  a  few  moments. 

"  At  any  rate,"  she  said,  "  dear  cousin,  do  love  poor  Dodo, 
and  be  kind  to  him,  for  my  sake  !  " 

"  I  could  love  anything,  for  your  sake,  dear  cousin ;  for  I 
really  think  you  are  the  loveliest  creature  that  I  ever  saw ! " 
And  Henrique  spoke  with  an  earnestness  that  flushed  his 
handsome  face.  Eva  received  it  with  perfect  simplicity, 
without  even  a  change  of  feature  ;  merely  saying,  "  I  'm  glad 
you  feel  so,  dear  Henrique !  I  hope  you  will  remember." 

The  dinner-bell  put  an  end  to  the  interview. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  21 


CHAPTER,   XXIV 

FOKESHADOWINGS 

Two  days  after  this,  Alfred  St.  Clare  and  Augustine 
parted ;  and  Eva,  who  had  been  stimulated  by  the  society 
of  her  young  cousin  to  exertions  beyond  her  strength,  be 
gan  to  fail  rapidly.  St.  Clare  was  at  last  willing  to  call  in 
medical  advice,  —  a  thing  from  which  he  had  always  shrunk, 
because  it  was  the  admission  of  an  unwelcome  truth.  But 
for  a  day  or  two  Eva  was  so  unwell  as  to  be  confined  to 
the  house ;  and  the  doctor  was  called. 

Marie  St.  Clare  had  taken  no  notice  of  the  child's  gradu 
ally  decaying  health  and  strength,  because  she  was  com 
pletely  absorbed  in  studying  out  two  or  three  new  forms  of 
disease  to  which  she  believed  she  herself  was  a  victim.  It 
was  the  first  principle  of  Marie's  belief  that  nobody  ever 
was  or  could  be  so  great  a  sufferer  as  herself ;  and,  there 
fore,  she  always  repelled  quite  indignantly  any  suggestion 
that  any  one  around  her  could  be  sick.  She  was  always 
sure,  in  such  a  case,  that  it  was  nothing  but  laziness  or 
want  of  energy ;  and  that,  if  they  had  had  the  suffering 
she  had,  they  would  soon  know  the  difference. 

Miss  Ophelia  had  several  times  tried  to  awaken  her  ma 
ternal  fears  about  Eva  ;  but  to  no  avail. 

"  I  don't  see  as  anything  ails  the  child,"  she  would  say ; 
"  she  runs  about,  and  plays." 

"  But  she  has  a  cough." 

"  Cough  !  you  don't  need  to  tell  me  about  a  cough.  I  've 
always  been  subject  to  a  cough  all  my  days.  When  I  was 
of  Eva's  age,  they  thought  I  was  in  a  consumption.  Night 


22  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

after  night  Mammy  used  to  sit  up  with  me.  Oh,  Eva's 
cough  is  not  anything." 

"  But  she  gets  weak,  and  is  short-breathed." 

"  Law  !  1 7ve  had  that  years  and  years  ;  it  ?s  only  a  ner 
vous  affection." 

"  But  she  sweats  so,  nights  !  " 

"  Well,  I  have,  these  ten  years.  Very  often,  night  after 
night,  my  clothes  will  be  wringing  wet.  There  won't  be  a 
dry  thread  in  my  night-clothes,  and  the  sheets  will  be  so 
that  Mammy  has  to  hang  them  up  to  dry  !  Eva  does  n't 
sweat  anything  like  that !  " 

Miss  Ophelia  shut  her  mouth  for  a  season.  But  now 
that  Eva  was  fairly  and  visibly  prostrated,  and  a  doctor 
called,  Marie,  all  on  a  sudden,  took  a  new  turn. 

She  knew  it,  she  said  ;  she  always  felt  it,  that  she  was 
destined  to  be  the  most  miserable  of  mothers.  Here  she 
was,  with  her  wretched  health,  and  her  only  darling  child 
going  down  to  the  grave  before  her  eyes !  And  Marie 
routed  up  Mammy  nights,  and  rumpussed  and  scolded,  with 
more  energy  than  ever  all  day  on  the  strength  of  this  new 
misery. 

"  My  dear  Marie,  don't  talk  so  !  "  said  St.  Clare.  "  You 
ought  not  to  give  up  the  case  so  at  once." 

"  You  have  not  a  mother's  feelings,  St.  Clare.  You  never 
could  understand  me  !  —  you  don't  now." 

"  But  don't  talk  so,  as  if  it  were  a  gone  case !  " 

"I  can't  take  it  as  indifferently  as  you  can,  St.  Clare. 
If  you  don't  feel  when  your  only  child  is  in  this  alarming 
state,  /  do.  It 's  a  blow  too  much  for  me,  with  all  I  was 
bearing  before." 

"  It 's  true,"  said  St.  Clare,  "  that  Eva  is  very  delicate, 
that  I  always  knew  ;  and  that  she  has  grown  so  rapidly  as 
to  exhaust  her  strength ;  and  that  her  situation  is  critical. 
But  just  now  she  is  only  prostrated  by  the  heat  of  the 
weather,  and  by  the  excitement  of  her  cousin's  visit,  and 


LIFE  AMONG  THE   LOWLY  23 

the  exertions  she  made.  The  physician  says  there  is  room 
for  hope." 

"  Well,  of  course,  if  you  can  look  on  the  bright  side, 
pray  do  ;  it 's  a  mercy  if  people  have  n't  sensitive  feelings 
in  this  world.  I  am  sure  I  wish  I  did  n't  feel  as  I  do  ;  it 
only  makes  me  completely  wretched !  I  wish  I  could  be  as 
easy  as  the  rest  of  you !  " 

And  the  "  rest  of  them  "  had  good  reason  to  breathe  the 
same  prayer,  for  Marie  paraded  her  new  misery  as  the 
reason  and  apology  for  all  sorts  of  inflictions  on  every  one 
about  her.  Every  word  that  was  spoken  by  anybody,  every 
thing  that  was  done  or  was  not  done  everywhere,  was  only  a 
new  proof  that  she  was  surrounded  by  hard-hearted,  insensible 
beings,  who  were  unmindful  of  her  peculiar  sorrows.  Poor 
Eva  heard  some  of  these  speeches  ;  and  nearly  cried  her 
little  eyes  out,  in  pity  for  her  mamma,  and  in  sorrow  that 
she  should  make  her  so  much  distress. 

In  a  week  or  two  there  was  a  great  improvement  of 
symptoms,  —  one  of  those  deceitful  lulls  by  which  her  in 
exorable  disease  so  often  beguiles  the  anxious  heart,  even,  on 
the  verge  of  the  grave.  Eva's  step  was  again  in  the  garden, 
—  in  the  balconies  ;  she  played  and  laughed  again,  —  and 
her  father,  in  a  transport,  declared  that  they  should  soon 
have  her  as  hearty  as  anybody.  Miss  Ophelia  and  the  phy 
sician  alone  felt  no  encouragement  from  this  illusive  truce. 
There  was  one  other  heart,  too,  that  felt  the  same  certainty, 
and  that  was  the  little  heart  of  Eva.  What  is  it  that  some 
times  speaks  in  the  soul  so  calmly,  so  clearly,  that  its  earthly 
time  is  short  ?  Is  it  the  secret  instinct  of  decaying  nature,  or 
the  soul's  impulsive  throb,  as  immortality  draws  on  ?  Be 
it  what  it  may,  it  rested  in  the  heart  of  Eva,  a  calm,  sweet, 
prophetic  certainty  that  heaven  was  near  ;  calm  as  the  light 
of  sunset,  sweet  as  the  bright  stillness  of  autumn,  there  her 
little  heart  reposed,  only  troubled  by  sorrow  for  those  who 
loved  her  so  dearly. 


24  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OK 

For  the  child,  though  nursed  so  tenderly,  and  though  life 
was  unfolding  before  her  with  every  brightness  that  love 
and  wealth  could  give,  had  no  regret  for  herself  in  dying. 

In  that  book  which  she  and  her  simple  old  friend  had 
read  so  much  together,  she  had  seen  and  taken  to  her  young 
heart  the  image  of  One  who  loved  the  little  child ;  and,  as 
she  gazed  and  mused,  he  had  ceased  to  be  an  image  and  a 
picture  of  the  distant  past,  and  come  to  be  a  living,  all-sur 
rounding  reality.  His  love  enfolded  her  childish  heart  with 
more  than  mortal  tenderness  ;  and  it  was  to  him,  she  said, 
she  was  going,  and  to  his  home. 

But  her  heart  yearned  with  sad  tenderness  for  all  that  she 
was  to  leave  behind.  Her  father  most,  —  for  Eva,  though 
she  never  distinctly  thought  so,  had  an  instinctive  percep 
tion  that  she  was  more  in  his  heart  than  any  other.  She 
loved  her  mother  because  she  was  so  loving  a  creature,  and 
all  the  selfishness  that  she  had  seen  in  her  only  saddened 
and  perplexed  her ;  for  she  had  a  child's  implicit  trust  that 
her  mother  could  not  do  wrong.  There  was  something 
about  her  that  Eva  never  could  make  out ;  and  she  always 
smoothed  it  over  with  thinking  that,  after  all,  it  was  mamma, 
and  she  loved  her  very  dearly  indeed. 

She  felt,  too,  for  those  fond,  faithful  servants,  to  whom 
she  was  as  daylight  and  sunshine.  Children  do  not  usually 
generalize ;  but  Eva  was  an  uncommonly  mature  child,  and 
the  things  that  she  had  witnessed  of  the  evils  of  the  system 
under  which  they  were  living  had  fallen,  one  by  one,  into 
the  depths  of  her  thoughtful,  pondering  heart.  She  had 
vague  longings  to  do  something  for  them,  —  to  bless  and 
save  not  only  them,  but  all  in  their  condition,  —  longings 
that  contrasted  sadly  with  the  feebleness  of  her  little  frame. 

"  Uncle  Tom,"  she  said  one  day,  when  she  was  reading 
to  her  friend,  "  I  can  understand  why  Jesus  wanted  to  die 
for  us." 

"  Why,  Miss  Eva  ?  " 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  25 

"  Because  I  've  felt  so,  too." 

"What  is  it,  Miss  Eva  ?  —  I  don't  understand." 

"  I  can't  tell  you ;  but  when  I  saw  those  poor  creatures 
on  the  boat,  you  know,  when  you  came  up  and  I,  —  some 
had  lost  their  mothers,  and  some  their  husbands,  and  some 
mothers  cried  for  their  little  children,  —  and  when  I  heard 
about  poor  Prue,  —  oh,  was  n't  that  dreadful  !  —  and  a  great 
many  other  times,  I  've  felt  that  I  would  be  glad  to  die,  if 
my  dying  could  stop  all  this  misery.  I  would  die  for  them, 
Tom,  if  I  could,"  said  the  child  earnestly,  laying  her  little 
thin  hand  on  his. 

Tom  looked  at  the  child  with  awe ;  and  when  she,  hear 
ing  her  father's  voice,  glided  away,  he  wiped  his  eyes  many 
times,  as  he  looked  after  her. 

"  It 's  jest  no  use  tryin'  to  keep  Miss  Eva  here,"  he  said 
to  Mammy,  whom  he  met  a  moment  after.  "  She  's  got  the 
Lord's  mark  in  her  forehead." 

"  Ah,  yes,  yes,"  said  Mammy,  raising  her  hands  ;  "  I  've 
allers  said  so.  She  was  n't  never  like  a  child  that 's  to  live, 

—  there  was  allers  something  deep  in  her  eyes.     I  've  told 
Missis  so  many  the  time  ;  it 's  comin'  true,  —  we  all  sees  it, 

—  dear,  little,  blessed  lamb  !  " 

Eva  came  tripping  up  the  veranda  steps  to  her  father. 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  rays  of  the  sun  formed 
a  kind  of  glory  behind  her,  as  she  came  forward  in  her  white 
dress,  with  her  golden  hair  and  glowing  cheeks,  her  eyes 
unnaturally  bright  with  the  slow  fever  that  burned  in  her 
veins. 

St.  Clare  had  called  her  to  show  a  statuette  that  he  had 
been  buying  for  her  ;  but  her  appearance,  as  she  came  on, 
impressed  him  suddenly  and  painfully.  There  is  a  kind  of 
beauty  so  intense,  yet  so  fragile,  that  we  cannot  bear  to  look 
at  it.  Her  father  folded  her  suddenly  in  his  arms,  and 
almost  forgot  what  he  was  going  to  tell  her. 

"  Eva,  dear,  you  are  better  nowadays,  —  are  you  not  ?  " 


26  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"  Papa/'  said  Eva,  with  sudden  firmness,  "  I  've  had 
things  I  wanted  to  say  to  you  a  great  while.  I  want  to  say 
them  now,  before  I  get  weaker. " 

St.  Clare  trembled  as  Eva  seated  herself  in  his  lap.  She 
laid  her  head  on  his  bosom,  and  said,  — 

"  It  's  all  no  use,  papa,  to  keep  it  to  myself  any  longer. 
The  time  is  coming  that  I  am  going  to  leave  you.  I  am 
going,  and  never  to  come  back  !  "  and  Eva  sobbed. 

"  Oh,  now,  my  dear  little  Eva  !  "  said  St.  Clare,  trem 
bling  as  he  spoke,  but  speaking  cheerfully ;  "  you  've  got 
nervous  and  low-spirited  ;  you  must  n't  indulge  such  gloomy 
thoughts.  See  here,  I  ?ve  bought  a  statuette  for  you  !  " 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Eva,  putting  it  gently  away,  "  don't 
deceive  yourself !  —  I  am  not  any  better,  I  know  it  perfectly 
well,  —  and  I  am  going  before  long.  I  am  not  nervous,  — 
I  am  not  low-spirited.  If  it  were  not  for  you,  papa,  and  my 
friends,  I  should  be  perfectly  happy.  I  want  to  go,  —  1  long 
to  go !  " 

(l  Why,  dear  child,  what  has  made  your  poor  little  heart 
so  sad  ?  You  have  had  everything  to  make  you  happy, 
that  could  be  given  you." 

"  I  had  rather  be  in  heaven  ;  though,  only  for  my  friends' 
sake,  I  would  be  willing  to  live.  There  are  a  great  many 
things  here  that  make  me  sad,  that  seem  dreadful  to  me  ; 
I  had  rather  be  there ;  but  I  don't  want  to  leave  you,  —  it 
almost  breaks  my  heart !  " 

"  What  makes  you  sad,  and  seems  dreadful,  Eva  ?  " 

"  Oh,  things  that  are  done,  and  done  all  the  time.  I  feel 
sad  for  our  poor  people  ;  they  love  me  dearly,  and  they 
are  all  good  and  kind  to  me.  I  wish,  papa,  they  were  all 
free." 

"  Why,  Eva,  child,  don't  you  think  they  are  well  enough 
off  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but,  papa,  if  anything  should  happen  to  you,  what 
would  become  of  them  ?  There  are  very  few  men  like  you, 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  27 

papa.  Uncle  Alfred  is  n't  like  you,  and  mamma  is  n't ;  and 
then,  think  of  poor  old  Pme's  owners  !  What  horrid  things 
people  do,  and  can  do !  "  and  Eva  shuddered. 

"  My  dear  child,  you  are  too  sensitive.  I  'm  sorry  I  ever 
let  you  hear  such  stories.'7 

"  Oh,  that  ?s  what  troubles  me,  papa.  You  want  me  to 
live  so  happy,  and  never  to  have  any  pain,  —  never  suffer 
anything,  —  not  even  hear  a  sad  story,  when  other  poor'  crea 
tures  have  nothing  but  pain  and  sorrow  all  their  lives  ;  —  it 
seems  selfish.  I  ought  to  know  such  things,  I  ought  to  feel 
about  them  !  Such  things  always  sunk  into  my  heart ;  they 
went  down  deep  ;  1 7ve  thought  and  thought  about  them. 
Papa,  is  n't  there  anyway  to  have  all  slaves  made  free  ?  " 

"  That  ;s  a  difficult  question,  dearest.  There  's  no  doubt 
that  this  way  is  a  very  bad  one ;  a  great  many  people  think 
so ;  I  do  myself.  I  heartily  wish  that  there  were  not  a 
slave  in  the  land  ;  but,  then,  I  don't  know  what  is  to  be 
done  about  it !  " 

"  Papa,  you  are  such  a  good  man,  and  so  noble,  and 
kind,  and  you  always  have  a  way  of  saying  things  that  is 
so  pleasant,  could  n't  you  go  all  round  and  try  to  persuade 
people  to  do  right  about  this  ?  When  I  am  dead,  papa, 
then  you  will  think  of  me,  and  do  it  for  my  sake.  I  would 
do  it  if  I  could." 

"  When  you  are  dead,  Eva!  "  said  St.  Clare  passionately. 
"  Oh,  child,  don't  talk  to  me  so !  You  are  all  I  have  on 
earth." 

"  Poor  old  Prue's  child  was  all  that  she  had,  —  and  yet 
she  had  to  hear  it  crying,  and  she  could  n't  help  it !  Papa, 
these  poor  creatures  love  their  children  as  much  as  you  do 
me.  Oh,  do  something  for  them  !  There  's  poor  Mammy 
loves  her  children  ;  I  ?ve  seen  her  cry  when  she  talked 
about  them.  And  Tom  loves  his  children  ;  and  it  ?s  dread 
ful,  papa,  that  such  things  are  happening  all  the  time  !  " 

"  There,  there,  darling,"  said  St.  Clare  soothingly  ;  "  only 


28  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

don't  distress  yourself,  and  don't  talk  of  dying,  and  I  will 
do  anything  you  wish.7' 

"  And  promise  me,  dear  father,  that  Tom  shall  have  his 
freedom  as  soon  as  "  —  she  stopped,  and  said,  in  a  hesitat 
ing  tone  —  "I  am  gone  !  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  will  do  anything  in  the  world,  —  anything 
you  could  ask  me  to." 

"  Dear  papa,"  said  the  child,  laying  her  burning  cheek 
against  his,  "  how  I  wish  we  could  go  together  !  " 

"Where,  dearest  ?  "  said  St.  Clare. 

"  To  our  Saviour's  home ;  it  7s  so  sweet  and  peaceful 
there,  —  it  is  all  so  loving  there !  "  The  child  spoke 
unconsciously,  as  of  a  place  where  she  had  often  been. 
"  Don't  you  want  to  go,  papa  ?  "  she  said. 

St.  Clare  drew  her  closer  to  him,  but  was  silent. 

"'You  will  come  to  me,"  said  the  child,  speaking  in  a 
voice  of  calm  certainty  which  she  often  used  unconsciously. 

"  I  shall  come  after  you.      I  shall  not  forget  you." 

The  shadows  of  the  solemn  evening  closed  round  them 
deeper  and  deeper  as  St.  Clare  sat  silently  holding  the 
little  frail  form  to  his  bosom.  He  saw  no  more  the  deep 
eyes,  but  the  voice  came  over  him  as  a  spirit  voice,  and,  as 
in  a  sort  of  judgment  vision,  his  whole  past  life  rose  in  a 
moment  before  his  eyes  :  his  mother's  prayers  and  hymns  ; 
his  own  early  yearnings  and  aspirings  for  good  ;  and,  be 
tween  them  and  this  hour,  years  of  worldliness  and  skepti 
cism,  and  what  man  calls  respectable  living.  We  can  think 
much,  very  much,  in  a  moment.  St.  Clare  saw  and  felt 
many  things,  but  spoke  nothing  ;  and,  as  it  grew  darker, 
he  took  his  child  to  her  bedroom  ;  and,  when  she  was  pre 
pared  for  rest,  he  sent  away  the  attendants,  and  rocked  her 
in  his  arms,  and  sung  to  her  till  she  was  asleep. 


LIFE  AMONG   THE   LOWLY  29 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE    LITTLE    EVANGELIST 

IT  was  Sunday  afternoon.  St.  Clare  was  stretched  on  a 
bamboo  lounge  in  the  veranda,  solacing  himself  with  a  cigar. 
Marie  lay  reclined  on  a  sofa,  opposite  the  window  opening 
on  the  veranda,  closely  secluded,  under  an  awning  of  trans 
parent  gauze,  from  the  outrages  of  the  mosquitoes,  and  lan 
guidly  holding  in  her  hand  an  elegantly  bound  prayer-book. 
She  was  holding  it  because  it  was  Sunday,  and  she  imagined 
she  had  been  reading  it,  —  though,  in  fact,  she  had  been 
only  taking  a  succession  of  short  naps,  with  it  open  in  her 
hand. 

Miss  Ophelia,  who,  after  some  rummaging,  had  hunted  up 
a  small  Methodist  meeting  within  riding  distance,  had  gone 
out,  with  Tom  as  driver,  to  attend  it,  and  Eva  had  accompa 
nied  them. 

"  I  say,  Augustine,'7  said  Marie,  after  dozing  awhile,  "  I 
must  send  to  the  city  after  my  old  Dr.  Posey  ;  I  'm  sure 
I  ?ve  got  the  complaint  of  the  heart." 

"  Well ;  why  need  you  send  for  him  ?  This  doctor  that 
attends  Eva  seems  skillful." 

"  I  would  not  trust  him  in  a  critical  case,"  said  Marie ; 
"  and  I  think  I  may  say  mine  is  becoming  so  !  I  've  been 
thinking  of  it,  these  two  or  three  nights  past ;  I  have  such 
distressing  pains  and  such  strange  feelings." 

"  Oh,  Marie,  you  are  blue  ;  I  don't  believe  it  7s  heart 
complaint." 

"  I  dare  say  you  don't,"  said  Marie  ;  "  I  was  prepared  to 
expect  that.  You  can  be  alarmed  enough  if  Eva  coughs, 


30  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

or  has  the  least  thing  the  matter  with  her  j  but  you  never 
think  of  me." 

"  If  it 's  particularly  agreeable  to  you  to  have  heart 
disease,  why,  I  '11  try  and  maintain  you  have  it,"  said  St. 
Clare  ;  "I  did  n't  know  it  was." 

"  Well,  I  only  hope  you  won't  be  sorry  for  this  when 
it 's  too  late  !  "  said  Marie  ;  "  but,  believe  it  or  not,  my 
distress  about  Eva,  and  the  exertions  I  have  made  with  that 
dear  child,  have  developed  what  I  have  long  suspected." 

What  the  exertions  were  which  Marie  referred  to,  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  state.  St.  Clare  quietly  made  this 
commentary  to  himself,  and  went  on  smoking,  like  a  hard 
hearted  wretch  of  a  man  as  he  was,  till  a  carriage  drove  up 
before  the  veranda,  and  Eva  and  Miss.  Ophelia  alighted. 

Miss  Ophelia  marched  straight  to  her  own  chamber,  to 
put  away  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  as  was  always  her  manner, 
before  she  spoke  a  word  on  any  subject ;  while  Eva  came, 
at  St.  Clare's  call,  and  was  sitting  on  his  knee,  giving  him 
an  account  of  the  services  they  had  heard. 

They  soon  heard  loud  exclamations  from  Miss  Ophelia's 
room,  which,  like  the  one  in  which  they  were  sitting,  opened 
on  to  the  veranda,  and  violent  reproof  addressed  to  some 
body. 

"  What  new  witchcraft  has  Tops  been  brewing  ?  "  asked 
St.  Clare.  "  That  commotion  is  of  her  raising,  I  '11  be 
bound ! " 

And,  in  a  moment  after,  Miss  Ophelia,  in  high  indigna 
tion,  came  dragging  the  culprit  along. 

"  Come  out  here,  now  !  "  she  said.  "  I  will  tell  your 
master !  " 

"  What 's  the  case  now  ?  "  asked  Augustine." 

"  The  case  is,  that  I  cannot  be  plagued  with  this  child 
any  longer  !  It  ?s  past  all  bearing  •  flesh  and  blood  cannot 
endure  it !  Here  I  locked  her  up,  and  gave  her  a  hymn  to 
study ;  and  what  does  she  do,  but  spy  out  where  I  put  my 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  31 

key,  and  has  gone  to  my  bureau,  and  got  a  bonnet-trimming, 
and  cut  it  all  to  pieces,  to  make  dolls'  jackets  !  I  never  saw 
anything  like  it  in  my  life !  " 

"  I  told  you,  cousin,"  said  Marie,  "  that  you  'd  find  out 
that  these  creatures  can't  be  brought  up  without  severity. 
If  I  had  my  way,  now,"  she  said,  looking  reproachfully  at 
St.  Clare,  "  I  'd  send  that  child  out,  and  have  her  thoroughly 
whipped ;  I'd  have  her  whipped  till  she  couldn't  stand  !  " 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  St.  Clare.  "  Tell  me  of  the 
lovely  rule  of  woman  !  I  never  saw  above  a  dozen  women 
that  would  n't  half  kill  a  horse,  or  a  servant,  either,  if  they 
had  their  own  way  with  them !  —  let  alone  a  man." 

"  There  is  no  use  in  this  shilly-shally  way  of  yours,  St. 
Clare  ! "  said  Marie.  "  Cousin  is  a  woman  of  sense,  and 
she  sees  it  now,  as  plain  as  I  do." 

Miss  Ophelia  had  just  the  capability  of  indignation  that 
belongs  to  the  thorough-paced  housekeeper,  and  this  had 
been  pretty  actively  roused  by  the  artifice  and  wastefulness 
of  the  child ;  in  fact,  many  of  my  lady  readers  must  own 
that  they  should  have  felt  just  so  in  her  circumstances  ;  but 
Marie's  words  went  beyond  her,  and  she  felt  less  heat. 

"  I  would  n't  have  the  child  treated  so  for  the  world," 
she  said ;  "  but  I  am  sure,  Augustine,  I  don't  know  what 
to  do.  I  've  taught  and  taught ;  1 've  talked  till  I  ?m  tired  ; 
I  've  whipped  her ;  I  've  punished  her  in  every  way  I  can 
think  of,  and  still  she 's  just  what  she  was  at  first." 

"  Come  here,  Tops,  you  monkey  !  "  said  St.  Clare,  calling 
the  child  up  to  him. 

Topsy  came  up  ;  her  round,  hard  eyes  glittering  and 
blinking  with  a  mixture  of  apprehensiveness  and  their  usual 
odd  drollery. 

"  What  makes  you  behave  so  ?  "  said  St.  Clare,  who 
could  not  help  being  amused  with  the  child's  expression. 

"  Spects  it's  my  wicked  heart,"  said  Topsy  demurely; 
"  Miss  Feely  says  so." 


32  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  Don't  you  see  how  much  Miss  Ophelia  has  done  for 
you  ?  She  says  she  has  done  everything  she  can  think  of." 

"  Lor,  yes,  Mas'r !  old  Missis  used  to  say  so,  too.  She 
whipped  me  a  heap  harder,  and  used  to  pull  my  har,  and 
knock  my  head  agin  the  door  ;  but  it  didn't  do  me  no  good  ! 
I  spects,  if  they 's  to  pull  every  spear  o'  har  out  o'  my 
head,  it  would  n't  do  no  good,  neither,  —  I 's  so  wicked  ! 
Laws  !  I 's  nothin'  but  a  nigger,  noways." 

"  Well,  I  shall  have  to  give  her  up,"  said  Miss  Ophelia. 
"  I  can't  have  that  trouble  any  longer." 

"  Well,  I  'd  just  like  to  ask  one  question,"  said  St. 
Clare. 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  your  gospel  is  not  strong  enough  to  save  one 
heathen  child,  that  you  can  have  at  home  here,  all'to  your 
self,  what 's  the  use  of  sending  one  or  two  poor  missionaries 
off  with  it  among  thousands  of  just  such  ?  I  suppose  this 
child  is  about  a  fair  sample  of  what  thousands  of  your 
heathen  are." 

Miss  Ophelia  did  not  make  an  immediate  answer ;  and 
Eva,  who  had  stood  a  silent  spectator  of  the  scene  thus 
far,  made  a  silent  sign  to  Topsy  to  follow  her.  There 
was  a  little  glass  room  at  the  corner  of  the  veranda,  which 
St.  Clare  used  as  a  sort  of  reading-room  ;  and  Eva  and 
Topsy  disappeared  into  this  place. 

"What's  Eva  going  about,  now?"  said  St.  Clare  ;  "I 
mean  to  see." 

And,  advancing  on  tiptoe,  he  lifted  up  a  curtain  that 
covered  the  glass  door,  and  looked  in.  In  a  moment,  lay 
ing  his  finger  on  his  lips,  he  made  a  silent  gesture  to  Miss 
Ophelia  to  come  and  look.  There  sat  the  two  children  on 
the  floor,  with  their  side  faces  towards  them.  Topsy, 
with  her  usual  air  of  careless  drollery  and  unconcern ;  but, 
opposite  to  her,  Eva,  her  whole  face  fervent  with  feeling, 
and  tears  in  her  large  eyes. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  33 

"  What  does  make  you  so  bad,  Topsy  ?  Why  won't  you 
try  and  be  good  ?  Don't  you  love  anybody,  Topsy  ?  " 

"  Dunno  nothing  'bout  love  ;  I  loves  candy  and  sich, 
that 's  all,"  said  Topsy. 

"  But  you  love  your  father  and  mother  ?  " 

"  Never  had  none,  ye  know.  I  telled  ye  that,  Miss 
Eva." 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  said  Eva  sadly  ;  "  but  had  n't  you  any 
brother,  or  sister,  or  aunt,  or  "  — 

"  No,  none  on  'em,  — never  had  nothing  nor  nobody." 

"  But,  Topsy,  if  you  'd  only  try  to  be  good,  you 
might "  - 

"Couldn't  never  be  nothin'  but  a  nigger,  if  I  was  ever 
so  good,"  said  Topsy.  "  If  I  could  be  skinned,  and  come 
white,  I  'd  try  then." 

"  But  people  can  love  you  if  you  are  black,  Topsy.  Miss 
Ophelia  would  love  you  if  you  were  good." 

Topsy  gave  the  short,  blunt  laugh  that  was  her  common 
mode  of  expressing  incredulity. 

"  Don't  you  think  so  ?  "  said  Eva. 

"  No  ;  she  can't  bar  me,  'cause  1 7m  a  nigger !  —  she  'd 
7s  soon  have  a  toad  touch  her !  There  can't  nobody  love 
niggers,  and  niggers  can't  do  nothin'  !  I  don't  care,"  said 
Topsy,  beginning  to  whistle. 

"Oh,  Topsy,  poor  child,  /  love  you!  "  said  Eva,  with 
a  sudden  burst  of  feeling,  and  laying  her  little  thin,  white 
hand  on  Topsy's  shoulder ;  "I  love  you  because  you  have  n't 
had  any  father,  or  mother,  or  friends  ;  —  because  you  *ve 
been  a  poor,  abused  child !  I  love  you,  and  I  want  you  to 
be  good.  I  am  very  unwell,  Topsy,  and  I  think  I  sha'n't 
live  a  great  while;  and  it  really  grieves  me  to  have  you 
be  so  naughty.  I  wish  you  would  try  to  be  good,  for  my 
sake  ;  —  it 's  only  a  little  while  I  shall  be  with  you." 

The  round,  keen  eyes  of  the  black  child  were  overcast 
with  tears ;  —  large,  bright  drops  rolled  heavily  down,  one 

VOL.  II. 


34  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

by  one,  and  fell  on  the  little  white  hand.  Yes,  in  that 
moment,  a  ray  of  real  belief,  a  ray  of  heavenly  love,  had 
penetrated  the  darkness  of  her  heathen  soul  !  She  laid  her 
head  down  between  her  knees,  and  wept  and  sobbed,  — 
while  the  beautiful  child,  bending  over  her,  looked  like  the 
picture  of  some  bright  angel  stooping  to  reclaim  a  sinner. 

"  Poor  Topsy  !  "  said  Eva,  "  don't  you  know  that  Jesus 
loves  all  alike  ?  He  is  just  as  willing  to  love  you  as  me. 
He  loves  you  just  as  I  do,  — only  more,  because  he  is  bet 
ter.  He  will  help  you  to  be  good;  and  you  can  go  to 
heaven  at  last,  and  be  an  angel  forever,  just  as  much  as  if 
you  were  white.  Only  think  of  it,  Topsy  !  —  you  can  be 
one  of  those  spirits  bright  Uncle  Tom  sings  about." 

"  Oh,  dear  Miss  Eva,  dear  Miss  Eva  !  "  said  the  child, 
"  I  will  try,  I  will  try ;  I  never  did  care  nothin'  about  it 
before." 

St.  Clare,  at  this  instant,  dropped  the  curtain.  "  It  puts 
me  in  mind  of  mother,"  he  said  to  Miss  Ophelia.  "  It  is 
true  what  she  told  me  :  if  we  want  to  give  sight  to  the 
blind,  we  must  be  willing  to  do  as  Christ  did,  —  call  them 
to  us,  and  put  our  hands  on  them." 

"  I  've  always  had  a  prejudice  against  negroes,"  said  Miss 
Ophelia,  "  and  it 's  a  fact,  I  never  could  bear  to  have  that 
child  touch  me  ;  but  I  did  n't  think  she  knew  it." 

"  Trust  any  child  to  find  that  out,"  said  St.  Clare; 
"  there 's  no  keeping  it  from  them.  But  I  believe  that 
all  the  trying  in  the  world  to  benefit  a  child,  and  all  the 
substantial  favors  you  can  do  them,  will  never  excite  one 
emotion  of  gratitude,  while  that  feeling  of  repugnance  re 
mains  in  the  heart ;  —  it 's  a  queer  kind  of  a  fact,  —  but  so 
it  is." 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  can  help  it,"  said  Miss  Ophelia ; 
"  they  are  disagreeable  to  me,  —  this  child  in  particular,  — 
how  can  I  help  feeling  so  ?  " 

"  Eva  does,  it  seems." 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  35 

"  Well,  she  's  so  loving  !  After  all,  though,  she  7s  no 
more  than  Christ-like/7  said  Miss  Ophelia ;  "  I  wish  I 
were  like  her.  She  might  teach  me  a  lesson." 

"  It  would  n't  be  the  first  time  a  little  child  had  been 
used  to  instruct  an  old  disciple,  if  it  were  so,"  said  St. 
Clare. 


36  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

DEATH 

"  Weep  not  for  those  whom  the  veil  of  the  tomb, 
In  life's  earl}7  morning,  hath  hid  from  our  eyes." 

EVA'S  bedroom  was  a  spacious  apartment,  which,  like 
all  the  other  rooms  in  the  house,  opened  on  to  the  broad 
veranda.  The  room  communicated,  on  one  side,  with  her 
father  and  mother's  apartment ;  on  the  other,  with  that 
appropriated  to  Miss  Ophelia.  St.  Clare  had  gratified  his 
own  eye  and  taste,  in  furnishing  this  room  in  a  style  that 
had  a  peculiar  keeping  with  the  character  of  her  for  whom 
it  was  intended.  The  windows  were  hung  with  curtains  of 
rose-colored  and  white  muslin ;  the  floor  was  spread  with  a 
matting  which  had  been  ordered  in  Paris,  to  a  pattern  of 
his  own  device,  having  round  it  a  border  of  rosebuds  and 
leaves,  and  a  centre-piece  with  full-blown  roses.  The  bed 
stead,  chairs,  and  lounges  were  of  bamboo,  wrought  in  pecu 
liarly  graceful  and  fanciful  patterns.  Over  the  head  of  the 
bed  was  an  alabaster  bracket,  on  which  a  beautiful  sculp 
tured  angel  stood,  with  drooping  wings,  holding  out  a 
crown  of  myrtle-leaves.  From  this  depended,  over  the  bed, 
light  curtains  of  rose-colored  gauze,  striped  with  silver,  sup 
plying  that  protection  from  mosquitoes  which  is  an  indis 
pensable  addition  to  all  sleeping  accommodation  in  that  cli 
mate.  The  graceful  bamboo  lounges  were  amply  supplied 
with  cushions  of  rose-colored  damask,  while  over  them,  de 
pending  from  the  hands  of  sculptured  figures,  were  gauze 
curtains  similar  to  those  of  the  bed.  A  light,  fanciful 
bamboo  table  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  where  a 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  37 

Parian  vase,  wrought  in  the  shape  of  a  white  lily,  with  its 
buds,  stood,  ever  filled  with  flowers.  On  this  table  lay 
Eva's  books  and  little  trinkets,  with  an  elegantly  wrought 
alabaster  writing-stand  which  her  father  had  supplied  to 
her  when  he  saw  her  trying  to  improve  herself  in  writing. 
There  was  a  fireplace  in  the  room,  and  on  the  marble  man 
tel  above  stood  a  beautifully  wrought  statuette  of  Jesus 
receiving  little  children,  and  on  either  side  marble  vases, 
for  which  it  was  Tom's  pride  and  delight  to  offer  bouquets 
every  morning.  Two  or  three  exquisite  paintings  of  children, 
in  various  attitudes,  embellished  the  wall.  In  short,  the 
eye  could  turn  nowhere  without  meeting  images  of  childhood, 
of  beauty,  and  of  peace.  Those  little  eyes  never  opened, 
in  the  morning  light,  without  falling  on  something  which 
suggested  to  the  heart  soothing  and  beautiful  thoughts. 

The  deceitful  strength  which  had  buoyed  Eva  up  for  a 
little  while  was  fast  passing  away  ;  seldom  and  more  seldom 
her  light  footstep  was  heard  in  the  veranda,  and  oftener 
and  oftener  she  was  found  reclined  on  a  little  lounge  by  the 
open  window,  her  large,  deep  eyes  fixed  on  the  rising  and 
falling  waters  of  the  lake. 

It  was  towards  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  as  she  was 
so  reclining,  —  her  Bible  half  open,  her  little  transparent 
fingers  lying  listlessly  between  the  leaves ;  suddenly  she 
heard  her  mother's  voice,  in  sharp  tones,  in  the  veranda. 

"  What  now,  you  baggage  !  —  what  new  piece  of  mis 
chief  !  You  've  been  picking  the  flowers,  hey  ?  "  and  Eva 
heard  the  sound  of  a  smart  slap. 

'/  Law,  Missis !  —  they 's  for  Miss  Eva,"  she  heard  a 
voice  say,  which  she  knew  belonged  to  Topsy. 

"  Miss  Eva  !  A  pretty  excuse  !  —  you  suppose  she  wants 
your  flowers,  you  good-for-nothing  nigger !  Get  along  off 
with  you ! " 

In  a  moment,  Eva  wras  off  from  her  lounge,  and  in  the 
veranda. 


38  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 

"  Oh,  don't,  mother !  I  should  like  the  flowers  ;  do 
give  them  to  me  ;  I  want  them  !  " 

"  Why,  Eva,  your  room  is  full  now." 

"  I  can't  have  too  many,"  said  Eva.  "  Topsy,  do  bring 
them  here." 

Topsy  who  had  stood  sullenly  holding  down  her  head, 
now  came  up  and  offered  her  flowers.  She  did  it  with  a 
look  of  hesitation  and  bashfulness,  quite  unlike  the  eldrich 
boldness  and  brightness  which  was  usual  with  her. 

"  It 's  a  beautiful  bouquet !  "  said  Eva,  looking  at  it. 

It  was  rather  a  singular  one,  —  a  brilliant  scarlet  geranium, 
and  one  single  white  japonica,  with  its  glossy  leaves.  It 
was  tied  up  with  an  evident  eye  to  the  contrast  of  color,  and 
the  arrangement  of  every  leaf  had  carefully  been  studied. 

Topsy  looked  pleased,  as  Eva  said,  "  Topsy,  you  arrange 
flowers  very  prettily.  Here,"  she  said,  "is  this  vase  I 
have  n't  any  flowers  for.  I  wish  you  'd  arrange  something 
every  day  for  it." 

"  Well,  that 's  odd  !  "  said  Marie.  "  What  in  the  world 
do  you  want  that  for  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,  mamma ;  you  'd  as  lief  as  not  Topsy 
should  do  it,  —  had  you  not  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  anything  you  please,  dear  !  Topsy,  you  hear 
your  young  mistress ;  — see  that  you  mind." 

Topsy  made  a  short  curtsy,  and  looked  down ;  and,  as 
she  turned  away,  Eva  saw  a  tear  roll  down  her  dark 
cheek. 

"  You  see,  mamma,  I  knew  poor  Topsy  wanted  to  do 
something  for  me,"  said  Eva  to  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !  it 's  only  because  she  likes  to  do  mis 
chief.  She  knows  she  must  n't  pick  flowers,  —  so  she  does 
it,  that  7s  all  there  is  to  it.  But  if  you  fancy  to  have  her 
pluck  them,  so  be  it." 

"  Mamma,  I  think  Topsy  is  different  from  what  she  used 
to  be  ;  she 's  trying  to  be  a  good  girl." 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  39 

"  She  '11  have  to  try  a  good  while  before  she  gets  to  be 
good,"  said  Marie  with  a  careless  laugh. 

"  Well,  you  know,  mamma,  poor  Topsy !  everything  has 
always  been  against  her." 

"  Not  since  she 's  been  here,  I  'm  sure.  If  she  has  n't 
been  talked  to,  and  preached  to,  and  every  earthly  thing 
done  that  anybody  could  do  ;  — and  she  's  just  so  ugly,  and 
always  will  be  ;  you  can't  make  anything  of  the  creature  !  " 

"  But,  mamma,  it 's  so  different  to  be  brought  up  as  I  've 
been,  with  so  many  friends,  so  many  things  to  make  me 
good  and  happy  ;  and  to  be  brought  up  as  she  7s  been,  all 
the  time,  till  she  came  here !  " 

"  Most  likely,"  said  Marie,  yawning,  —  "  dear  me,  how 
hot  it  is  !  " 

"  Mamma,  you  believe,  don't  you,  that  Topsy  could  be 
come  an  angel,  as  well  as  any  of  us,  if  she  were  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  Topsy !  what  a  ridiculous  idea !  Nobody  but  you 
would  ever  think  of  it.  I  suppose  she  could,  though." 

"  But,  mamma,  is  n't  God  her  father  as  much  as  ours  ? 
Is  n't  Jesus  her  Saviour  ?  " 

"  Well,  that  may  be.  I  suppose  God  made  everybody," 
said  Marie.  "  Where  is  my  smelling-bottle  ?  " 

"  It 's  such  a  pity,  —  oh  !  such  a  pity  !  "  said  Eva,  look 
ing  out  on  the  distant  lake,  and  speaking  half  to  herself. 

"  What 's  a  pity  ?  "  said  Marie. 

"Why,  that  any  one,  who  could  be  a  bright  angel,  and 
live  with  angels,  should  go  all  down,  down,  down,  and 
nobody  help  them  !  —  Oh,  dear !  " 

"  Well,  we  can't  help  it ;  it 's  no  use  worrying,  Eva  !  I 
don't  know  what 's  to  be  done  ;  •  we  ought  to  be  thankful 
for  our  own  advantages." 

"  I  hardly  can  be,"  said  Eva,  "  I  ?m  so  sorry  to  think  of 
poor  folks  that  have  n't  any." 

"  That 's  odd  enough,"  said  Marie  ;  —  "  I  'm  sure  my 
religion  makes  me  thankful  for  my  advantages." 


40  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  Mamma/'  said  Eva,  "  I  want  to  have  some  of  my  hair 
cut  off,  —  a  good  deal  of  it." 

"  What  for  ?  "  said  Marie. 

"  Mamma,  I  want  to  give  some  away  to  my  friends,  while 
I  am  able  to  give  it  to  them  myself.  Won't  you  ask  aunty 
to  come  and  cut  it  for  me  ?  " 

Marie  raised  her  voice,  and  called  Miss  Ophelia  from  the 
other  room. 

The  child  half  rose  from  her  pillow  as  she  came  in,  and, 
shaking  down  her  long  golden-brown  curls,  said,  rather 
playfully,  "  Corne,  aunty,  shear  the  sheep  !  " 

"What's  that?"  said  St.  Clare,  who  just  then  entered 
with  some  fruit  he  had  been  out  to  get  for  her. 

"  Papa,  I  just  want  aunty  to  cut  off  some  of  my  hair  ;  — 
there 's  too  much  of  it,  and  it  makes  my  head  hot.  Besides, 
I  want  to  give  some  of  it  away." 

Miss  Ophelia  came,  with  her  scissors. 

"  Take  care,  —  don't  spoil  the  looks  of  it !  "  said  her 
father ;  "  cut  underneath,  where  it  won't  show.  Eva's 
curls  are  my  pride." 

"  Oh,  papa  !  "  said  Eva  sadly. 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  them  kept  handsome  against  the  time 
I  take  you  up  to  your  uncle's  plantation,  to  see  Cousin 
Henrique,"  said  St.  Clare,  in  a  gay  tone. 

"  I  shall  never  go  there,  papa  ;  —  I  am  going  to  a  better 
country.  Oh,  do  believe  me  !  Don't  you  see,  papa,  that  I 
get  weaker  every  day  ?  " 

"Why  do  you  insist  that  I  shall  believe  such  a  cruel 
thing,  Eva  ?  "  said  her  father. 

"  Only  because  it  is  true,  papa ;  and  if  you  will  believe 
it  now,  perhaps  you  will  get  to  feel  about  it  as  I  do." 

St.  Clare  closed  his  lips,  and  stood  gloomily  eyeing  the 
long,  beautiful  curls,  which,  as  they  were  separated  from  the 
child's  head,  were  laid,  one  by  one,  in  her  lap.  She  raised 
them  up,  looked  earnestly  at  them,  twined  them  around  her 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  41 

thin  fingers,  and  looked  from  time  to  time  anxiously  at  her 
father. 

"  It 's  just  what  I  've  been  foreboding !  "  said  Marie  ; 
"it's  just  what  has  been  preying  on  my  health,  from  day 
to  day,  bringing  me  downward  to  the  grave,  though  nobody 
regards  it.  I  have  seen  this  long.  St.  Clare,  you  will  see, 
after  a  while,  that  I  was  right." 

"  Which  will  afford  you  great  consolation,  no  doubt !  " 
said  St.  Clare,  in  a  dry,  bitter  tone. 

Marie  lay  back  on  a  lounge,  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  cambric  handkerchief. 

Eva's  clear  blue  eye  looked  earnestly  from  one  to  the 
other.  It  was  the  calm,  comprehending  gaze  of  a  soul  half 
loosed  from  its  earthly  bonds ;  it  was  evident  she  saw,  felt, 
and  appreciated  the  difference  between  the  two. 

She  beckoned  with  her  hand  to  her  father.  He  came, 
and  sat  down  by  her. 

"  Papa,  my  strength  fades  away  every  day,  and  I  know  I 
must  go.     There  are  some  things  I  want  to  say  and  do,  — 
that  I  ought  to  do  ;  and  you  are  so  unwilling  to  have  me 
speak  a  word  on  the  subject.     But  it  must  come  ;  there  7s  no 
putting  it  off.     Do  be  willing  I  should  speak  now  ! " 

"  My  child,  I  am  willing ! "  said  St.  Clare,  covering  his 
eyes  with  one  hand,  and  holding  up  Eva's  hand  with  the 
other. 

"  Then,  I  want  to  see  all  our  people  together.  I  have 
some  things  I  must  say  to  them,"  said  Eva. 

"  Well"  said  St.  Clare,  in  a  tone  of  dry  endurance. 

Miss  Ophelia  dispatched  a  messenger,  and  soon  the  whole 
of  the  servants  were  convened  in  the  room. 

Eva  lay  back  on  her  pillows ;  her  hair  hanging  loosely 
about  her  face,  her  crimson  cheeks  contrasting  painfully 
with  the  intense  whiteness  of  her  complexion  and  the  thin 
contour  of  her  limbs  and  features,  and  her  large,  soul-like 
eyes  fixed  earnestly  on  every  one. 


42  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

The  servants  were  struck  with  a  sudden  emotion.  The 
spiritual  face,  the  long  locks  of  hair  cut  off  and  lying  by 
her,  her  father's  averted  face,  and  Marie's  sobs,  struck  at 
once  upon  the  feelings  of  a  sensitive  and  impressible  race ; 
and,  as  they  came  in,  they  looked  one  on  another,  sighed, 
and  shook  their  heads.  There  was  a  deep  silence,  like  that 
of  a  funeral. 

Eva  raised  herself,  and  looked  long  and  earnestly  round 
at  every  one.  All  looked  sad  and  apprehensive.  Many  of 
the  women  hid  their  faces  in  their  aprons. 

"  I  sent  for  you  all,  my  dear  friends,"  said  Eva,  "  because 
I  love  you.  I  love  you  all ;  and  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you,  which  I  want  you  always  to  remember.  ...  I  am 
going  to  leave  you.  In  a  few  more  weeks  you  will  see  me 
no  more  "  — 

Here  the  child  was  interrupted  by  bursts  of  groans,  sobs 
and  lamentations,  which  broke  from  all  present,  and  in 
which  her  slender  voice  was  lost  entirely.  She  waited  a 
moment,  and  then,  speaking  in  a  tone  that  checked  the 
sobs  of  all,  she  said,  — 

"  If  you  love  me  you  must  not  interrupt  me  so.  Listen 
to  what  I  say.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  your  souls. 
.  .  .  Many  of  you,  I  am  afraid,  are  very  careless.  You 
are  thinking  only  about  this  world.  I  want  you  to  re 
member  that  there  is  a  beautiful  world  where  Jesus  is.  I 
am  going  there,  and  you  can  go  there.  It  is  for  you  as 
much  as  me.  But  if  you  want  to  go  there,  you  must  not 
live  idle,  careless,  thoughtless  lives.  You  must  be  Chris 
tians.  You  must  remember  that  each  one  of  you  can  be 
come  angels,  and  be  angels  forever.  ...  If  you  want  to 
be  Christians,  Jesus  will  help  you.  You  must  pray  to 
him  ;  you  must  read  " 

The  child  checked  herself,  looked  piteously  at  them,  and 
said  sorrowfully,  — 

"  Oh,  dear  !  you  can't  read,  —  poor  souls  !  "  and  she  hid 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  43 

her  face  in  the  pillow  and  sobbed,  while  many  a  smothered 
sob  from  those  she  was  addressing,  who  were  kneeling  on 
the  floor,  aroused  her. 

"  Never  mind,'7  she  said,  raising  her  face,  and  smiling 
brightly  through  her  tears,  "  I  have  prayed  for  you ;  and  I 
know  Jesus  will  help  you,  even  if  you  can't  read.  Try  all 
to  do  the  best  you  can ;  pray  every  day  ;  ask  him  to  help 
you,  and  get  the  Bible  read  to  you  whenever  you  can ;  and 
I  think  I  shall  see  you  all  in  heaven." 

"Amen,"  was  the  murmured  response  from  the  lips  of 
Tom  and  Mammy,  and  some  of  the  elder  ones,  who  be 
longed  to  the  Methodist  Church.  The  younger  and  more 
thoughtless  ones,  for  the  time  completely  overcome,  were 
sobbing,  with  their  heads  bowed  upon  their  knees. 

"  I  know,"  said  Eva,  "  you  all  love  me." 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes !  indeed  we  do  !  Lord  bless  her  !  "  was 
the  involuntary  answer  of  all. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  do  !  There  is  n't  one  of  you  that 
has  n't  always  been  very  kind  to  me ;  and  I  want  to  give 
you  something  that,  when  you  look  at,  you  shall  always 
remember  me.  I  'm  going  to  give  all  of  you  a  curl  of  my 
hair  ;  and,  when  you  look  at  it,  think  that  I  loved  you  and 
am  gone  to  heaven,  and  that  I  want  to  see  you  all  there." 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  scene  as,  with  tears  and 
sobs,  they  gathered  round  the  little  creature,  and  took  from 
her  hands  what  seemed  to  them  a  last  mark  of  her  love. 
They  fell  on  their  knees  ;  they  sobbed,  and  prayed,  and 
kissed  the  hem  of  her  garment  j  and  the  elder  ones  poured 
forth  words  of  endearment,  mingled  in  prayers  and  blessings, 
after  the  manner  of  their  susceptible  race. 

As  each  one  took  their  gift,  Miss  Ophelia,  who  was  ap 
prehensive  for  the  effect  of  all  this  excitement  on  her  little 
patient,  signed  to  each  one  to  pass  out  of  the  apartment. 

At  last,  all  were  gone  but  Tom  and  Mammy. 

"  Here,  Uncle  Tom,"  said  Eva,  "  is  a   beautiful  one   for 


44  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

you.  Oh,  I  am  so  happy,  Uncle  Tom,  to  think  I  shall  see 
you  in  heaven,  —  for  I  'm  sure  I  shall ;  and  Mammy,  — 
dear,  good,  kind  Mammy  !  "  she  said,  fondly  throwing  her 
arms  round  her  old  nurse,  —  "I  know  you  '11  be  there, 
too." 

"Oh,  Miss  Eva,  don't  see  how  I  can  live  without  ye,  no 
how  !  "  said  the  faithful  creature.  "  'Pears  like  it 's  just 
taking  everything  off  the  place  to  oncet !  "  and  Mammy 
gave  way  to  a  passion  of  grief. 

Miss  Ophelia  pushed  her  and  Tom  gently  from  the  apart 
ment,  and  thought  they  were  all  gone  ;  but,  as  she  turned, 
Topsy  was  standing  there. 

"  Where  did  you  start  up  from  ?  "  she  said  suddenly. 

"  I  was  here,"  said  Topsy,  wiping  the  tears  from  her 
eyes.  "  Oh,  Miss  Eva,  I  've  been  a  bad  girl ;  but  won't  you 
give  me  one,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  poor  Topsy  !  to  be  sure  I  will.  There  —  every 
time  you  look  at  that,  think  that  I  love  you,  and  wanted 
you  to  be  a  good  girl !  " 

"  Oh,  Miss  Eva,  I  is  tryin'  ! "  said  Topsy  earnestly ; 
"  but,  Lor,  it 's  so  hard  to  be  good.  'Pears  like  I  ain't  used 
to  it,  noways  !  " 

"  Jesus  knows  it,  Topsy  ;  he  is  sorry  for  you  ;  he  will 
help  you." 

Topsy,  with  her  eyes  hid  in  her  apron,  was  silently  passed 
from  the  apartment  by  Miss  Ophelia  ;  but,  as  she  went,  she 
hid  the  precious  curl  in  her  bosom. 

All  being  gone,  Miss  Ophelia  shut  the  door.  That  wor 
thy  lady  had  wiped  away  many  tears  of  her  own  during 
the  scene  ;  but  concern  for  the  consequence  of  such  an  ex 
citement  to  her  young  charge  was  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

St.  Clare  had  been  sitting,  during  the  whole  time,  with 
his  hand  shading  his  eyes,  in  the  same  attitude.  When 
they  were  all  gone,  he  sat  so,  still. 

"  Papa  !  "  said  Eva  gently,  laying  her  hand  on  his. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  45 

He  gave  a  sudden  start  and  shiver ;  but  made  no  answer. 

"  Dear  papa  !  "  said  Eva. 

"  I  cannot"  said  St.  Clare,  rising,  —  "I  cannot  have  it 
so  !  The  Almighty  hath  dealt  very  bitterly  with  me  !  "  and 
St.  Clare  pronounced  these  words  with  a  bitter  emphasis 
indeed. 

"  Augustine  !  has  not  God  a  right  to  do  what  he  will 
with  his  own  ?  "  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"  Perhaps  so ;  but  that  does  n't  make  it  any  easier  to 
bear,"  said  he,  with  a  dry,  hard,  tearless  manner,  as  he 
turned  away. 

"  Papa,  you  break  my  heart !  "  said  Eva,  rising  and  throw 
ing  herself  into  his  arms ;  "  you  must  not  feel  so  !  "  and 
the  child  sobbed  and  wept  with  a  violence  which  alarmed 
them  all,  and  turned  her  father's  thoughts  at  once  to  another 
channel. 

"  There,  Eva,  —  there,  dearest !  Hush  !  hush  !  I  was 
wrong  ;  I  was  wicked.  I  will  feel  any  way,  do  any  way,  — 
only  don't  distress  yourself  ;  don't  sob  so.  I  will  be  re 
signed  ;  I  was  wicked  to  speak  as  I  did." 

Eva  soon  lay  like  a  wearied  dove  in  her  father's  arms  ; 
and  he,  bending  over  her,  soothed  her  by  every  tender  word 
he  could  think  of. 

Marie  rose  and  threw  herself  out  of  the  apartment  into  her 
own,  when  she  fell  into  violent  hysterics. 

"  You  did  n't  give  me  a  curl,  Eva,"  said  her  father,  smil 
ing  sadly. 

"  They  are  all  yours,  papa,"  said  she  smiling,  —  "  yours 
and  mamma's ;  and  you  must  give  dear  aunty  as  many  as 
she  wants.  I  only  gave  them  to  our  poor  people  myself, 
because  you  know,  papa,  they  might  be  forgotten  when  I 
am  gone,  and  because  I  hoped  it  might  help  them  remem- 
ber;  .  .  .  You  are  a  Christian,  are  you  not,  papa  ?  "  said 
Eva  doubtfully. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  ?  " 


46  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"I  don't  know.  You  are  so  good,  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  help  it." 

"  What  is  being  a  Christian,  Eva  ?  " 

"  Loving  Christ  most  of  all/7  said  Eva. 

"  Do  you,  Eva  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do." 

"  You  never  saw  him,"  said  St.  Clare. 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  said  Eva.  "  I  believe  him, 
and  in  a  few  days  I  shall  see  him ;  "  and  the  young  face 
grew  fervent,  radiant  with  joy. 

St.  Clare  said  no  more.  It  was  a  feeling  which  he  had 
seen  before  in  his  mother  ;  but  no  chord  within  vibrated  to  it. 

Eva,  after  this,  declined  rapidly ;  there  was  no  more  any 
doubt  of  the  event ;  the  fondest  hope  could  not  be  blinded. 
Her  beautiful  room  was  avowedly  a  sick-room,  and  Miss 
Ophelia  day  and  night  performed  the  duties  of  a  nurse,  — 
and  never  did  her  friends  appreciate  her  value  more  than 
in  that  capacity.  With  so  well-trained  a  hand  and  eyej 
such  perfect  adroitness  and  practice  in  every  art  which  could 
promote  neatness  and  comfort,  and  keep  out  of  sight  every 
disagreeable  incident  of  sickness,  —  with  such  a  perfect 
sense  of  time,  such  a  clear,  untroubled  head,  such  exact 
accuracy  in  remembering  every  prescription  and  direction 
of  the  doctor's,  —  she  was  everything  to  him.  They  who 
had  shrugged  their  shoulders  at  her  little  peculiarities  and 
setnesses,  so  unlike  the  careless  freedom  of  Southern  man- 
ners,  acknowledged  that  now  she  was  the  exact  person  that 
was  wanted. 

Uncle  Tom  was  much  in  Eva's  room.  The  child  suf 
fered  much  from  nervous  restlessness,  and  it  was  a  relief  to 
her  to  be  carried ;  and  it  was  Tom's  greatest  delight  to 
carry  her  little  frail  form  in  his  arms,  resting  on  a  pillow, 
now  up  and  down  her  room,  now  out  into  the  veranda ; 
and  when  the  fresh  sea-breezes  blew  from  the  lake,  —  and 
the  child  felt  freshest  in  the  morning,  —  he  would  some- 


LIFE  AMONG  THE   LOWLY  47 

times  walk  with  her  under  the  orange-trees  in  the  garden, 
or,  sitting  down  in  some  of  their  old  seats,  sing  to  her  their 
favorite  old  hymns. 

Her  father  often  did  the  same  thing ;  but  his  frame  was 
slighter,  and  when  he  was  weary,  Eva  would  say  to  him,  — 

"  Oh,  papa,  let  Tom  take  me.  Poor  fellow  !  it  pleases 
him,  and  you  know  it 's  all  he  can  do  now,  and  he  wants  to 
do  something  !  " 

"  So  do  I,  Eva  !  "  said  her  father. 

"  Well,  papa,  you  can  do  everything,  and  are  everything 
to  me.  You  read  to  me,  —  you  sit  up  nights,  —  and  Tom 
has  only  this  one  thing,  and  his  singing  ;  and  I  know,  too, 
he  does  it  easier  than  you  can.  He  carries  me  so  strong  ! " 

The  desire  to  do  something  was  not  confined  to  Tom. 
Every  servant  in  the  establishment  showed  the  same  feel 
ing,  and  in  their  way  did  what  they  could. 

Poor  Mammy's  heart  yearned  towards  her  darling  ;  but 
she  found  no  opportunity,  night  or  day,  as  Marie  declared 
that  the  state  of  her  mind  was  such  it  was  impossible  for 
her  to  rest ;  and  of  course  it  was  against  her  principles  to 
let  any  one  else  rest.  Twenty  times  in  a  night,  Mammy 
would  be  roused  to  rub  her  feet,  to  bathe  her  head,  to  find 
her  pocket-handkerchief,  to  see  what  the  noise  was  in  Eva's 
room,  to  let  down  a  curtain  because  it  was  too  light,  or  to 
put  it  up  because  it  was  too  dark  ;  and  in  the  daytime, 
when  she  longed  to  have  some  share  in  the  nursing  of  her 
pet,  Marie  seemed  unusually  ingenious  in  keeping  her  busy 
anywhere  and  everywhere  all  over  the  house,  or  about  her 
own  person  ;  so  that  stolen  interviews  and  momentary 
glimpses  were  all  she  could  obtain. 

"  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  be  particularly  careful  of  myself 
now,"  she  would  say,  "  feeble  as  I  am,  and  with  the  whole 
care  and  nursing  of  that  dear  child  upon  me." 

« Indeed,  my  dear,"  said  St.  Clare,  "I  thought  our  cousin 
relieved  you  of  that." 


48  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  You  talk  like  a  man,  St.  Clare, — just  as  if  a  mother 
could  be  relieved  of  the  care  of  a  child  in  that  state  ;  but 
then  it 's  all  alike,  —  no  one  ever  knows  what  I  feel  !  I 
can't  throw  things  off  as  you  do." 

St.  Clare  smiled.  You  must  excuse  him,  he  couldn't 
help  it,. —  for  St.  Clare  could  smile  yet.  For  so  bright  and 
placid  was  the  farewell  voyage  of  the  little  spirit,  —  by 
such  sweet  and  fragrant  breezes  was  the  small  bark  borne 
towards  the  heavenly  shores,  —  that  it  was  impossible  to 
realize  that  it  was  death  that  was  approaching.  The  child 
felt  no  pain,  —  only  a  tranquil,  soft  weakness,  daily  and 
almost  insensibly  increasing  ;  and  she  was  so  beautiful,  so 
loving,  so  trustful,  so  happy,  that  one  could  not  resist  the 
soothing  influence  of  that  air  of  innocence  and  peace  which 
seemed  to  breathe  around  her.  St.  Clare  found  a  strange 
calm  coming  over  him.  It  was  not  hope,  —  that  was  impos 
sible  ;  it  was  not  resignation  ;  it  was  only  a  calm  resting  in 
the  present,  which  seemed  so  beautiful  that  he  wished  to 
think  of  no  future.  It  was  like  that  hush  of  spirit  which 
we  feel  amid  the  bright,  mild  woods  of  autumn,  when  the 
bright  hectic  flush  is  on  the  trees,  and  the  last  lingering 
flowers  by  the  brook  ;  and  we  joy  in  it  all  the  more  be 
cause  we  know  that  soon  it  will  all  pass  away. 

The  friend  who  knew  most  of  Eva's  own  imaginings  and 
foreshadowings  was  her  faithful  bearer,  Tom.  To  him  she 
said  what  she  would  not  disturb  her  father  by  saying.  To 
him  she  imparted  those  mysterious  intimations  which  the 
soul  feels,  as  the  cords  begin  to  unbind,  ere  it  leaves  its 
clay  forever. 

Tom,  at  last,  would  not  sleep  in  his  room,  but  lay  all 
night  in  the  outer  veranda,  ready  to  rouse  at  .every  call. 

"  Uncle  Tom,  what  alive  have  you  taken  to  sleeping  any 
where  and  everywhere,  like  a  dog,  for  ?  "  said  Miss  Ophelia. 
"  I  thought  you  was  one  of  the  orderly  sort,  that  liked  to 
lie  in  bed  in  a  Christian  way." 


LIFE   AMONG   THE    LOWLY  49 

"  I  do,  Miss  Feely,"  said  Tom  mysteriously,  —  "  I  do  ; 
but  now  "  — 

"  Well,  what  now  ?  " 

"  We  must  n't  speak  loud ;  Mas'r  St.  Clare  won't  hear 
on  't ;  but,  Miss  Feely,  you  know  there  must  be  somebody 
watchin'  for  the  bridegroom.'7 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Tom  ?  " 

"  You  know  it  says  in  Scripture,  '  At  midnight  there  was 
a  great  cry  made,  Behold,  the  bridegroom  cometh.'  That 's 
what  I  'm  spectin'  now  every  night,  Miss  Feely,  —  and  I 
could  n't  sleep  out  o'  hearin',  noways." 

"  Why,  Uncle  Tom,  what  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Miss  Eva,  she  talks  to  me.  The  Lord,  he  sends  his 
messenger  in  the  soul.  I  must  be  thar,  Miss  Feely  ;  for 
when  that  ar  blessed  child  goes  into  the  kingdom,  they  '11 
open  the  door  so  wide  we  '11  all  get  a  look  in  at  the  glory, 
Miss  Feely." 

"  Uncle  Tom,  did  Miss  Eva  say  she  felt  more  unwell 
than  usual  to-night  ?  " 

"  No,  but  she  telled  me,  this  morning,  she  was  coming 
nearer,  —  thar  's  them  that  tells  it  to  the  child,  Miss  Feely. 
It 's  the  angels,  —  'it's  the  trumpet  sound  afore  the  break 
o'  day,'  "  said  Tom,  quoting  from  a  favorite  hymn. 

This  dialogue  passed  between  Miss  Ophelia  and  Tom, 
between  ten  and  eleven  one  evening,  after  her  arrangements 
had  all  been  made  for  the  night,  when,  on  going  to  bolt  her 
outer  door,  she  found  Tom  stretched  along  by  it,  in  the  outer 
veranda. 

She  was  not  nervous  or  impressible ;  but  the  solemn, 
heart-felt  manner  struck  her.  Eva  had  been  unusually 
bright  and  cheerful  that  afternoon,  and  had  sat  raised  in 
her  bed,  and  looked  over  all  her  little  trinkets  and  precious 
things,  and  designated  the  friends  to  whom  she  would  have 
them  given ;  and  her  manner  was  more  animated,  and  her 
voice  more  natural,  than  they  had  known  it  for  weeks.  Her 

VOL,  II, 


50  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

father  had  been  in,  in  the  evening,  and  had  said  that  Eva 
appeared  more  like  her  former  self  than  ever  she  had  done 
since  her  sickness ;  and  when  he  kissed  her  for  the  night, 
he  said  to  Miss  Ophelia,  "  Cousin,  we  may  keep  her  with 
us,  after  all  ;  she  is  certainly  better ;  "  and  he  had  retired 
with  a  lighter  heart  in  his  bosom  than  he  had  had  for 
weeks. 

But  at  midnight,  —  strange,  mystic  hour  !  —  when  the 
veil  between  the  frail  present  and  the  eternal  future  grows 
thin,  —  then  came  the  messenger  ! 

There  was  a  sound  in  that  chamber,  first  of  one  who 
stepped  quickly.  It  was  Miss  Ophelia,  who  had  resolved 
to  sit  up  all  night  with  her  little  charge,  and  who,  at  the 
turn  of  the  night,  had  discerned  what  experienced  nurses 
significantly  call  "  a  change."  The  outer  door  was  quickly 
opened,  and  Tom,  who  was  watching  outside,  was  on  the 
alert,  in  a  moment. 

"  Go  for  the  doctor,  Tom !  lose  not  a  moment,"  said  Miss 
Ophelia;  and,  stepping  across  the  room,  she  rapped  at  St. 
Clare's  door. 

"  Cousin,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  you  would  come." 

Those  words  fell  on  his  heart  like  clods  upon  a  coffin. 
Why  did  they  ?  He  was  up  and  in  the  room  in  an  instant, 
and  bending  over  Eva,  who  still  slept. 

What  was  it  he  saw  that  made  his  heart  stand  still  ? 
Why  was  no  word  spoken  between  the  two  ?  Thou  canst 
say,  who  hast  seen  that  same  expression  on  the  face  dearest 
to  thee,  —  that  look  indescribable,  hopeless,  unmistakable, 
that  says  to  thee  that  thy  beloved  is  no  longer  thine. 

On  the  face  of  the  child,  however,  there  was  no  ghastly 
imprint,  —  only  a  high  and  almost  sublime  expression,  — 
the  overshadowing  presence  of  spiritual  natures,  the  dawning 
of  immortal  life  in  that  childish  soul. 

They  stood  there  so  still,  gazing  upon  her,  that  even  the 
ticking  of  the  watch  seemed  too  loud.  In  a  few  moments 


LIFE  AMONG   THE  LOWLY  51 

Tom  returned  with  the  doctor.  He  entered,  gave  one  look, 
and  stood  silent  as  the  rest. 

"  When  did  this  change  take  place  ?  "  said  he,  in  a  low 
whisper  to  Miss  Ophelia. 

"About  the  turn  of  the  night,"  was  the  reply. 

Marie,  roused  by  the  entrance  of  the  doctor,  appeared 
hurriedly  from  the  next  room. 

"  Augustine  !  Cousin  !  —  Oh !  —  what !  "  she  hurriedly 
began. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  St.  Clare  hoarsely  ;  "  she  is  dying  f  " 

Mammy  heard  the  words  and  flew  to  awaken  the  servants. 
The  house  was  soon  aroused,  —  lights  were  seen,  footsteps 
heard,  anxious  faces  thronged  the  veranda,  and  looking 
tearfully  through  the  glass  doors;  but  St.  Clare  heard  and 
said  nothing,  —  he  saw  only  that  look  on  the  face  of  the 
little  sleeper. 

"  Oh,  if  she  would  only  wake  and  speak  once  more  ! "  he 
said  ;  and,  stooping  over  her,  he  spoke  in  her  ear,  "  Eva 
darling !  " 

The  large  blue  eyes  unclosed,  —  a  smile  passed  over  her 
face  ;  — •  she  tried  to  raise  her  head  and  to  speak. 

"  Do  you  know  me,  Eva  ?  " 

"  Dear  papa,"  said  the  child  with  a  last  effort,  throwing 
her  arms  about  his  neck.  In  a  moment  they  dropped  again, 
and  as  St.  Clare  raised  his  head,  he  saw  a  spasm  of  mortal 
agony  pass  over  the  face,  —  she  struggled  for  breath,  and 
threw  up  her  little  hands. 

"  0  God,  this  is  dreadful !  "  he  said,  turning  away  in 
agony,  and  wringing  Tom's  hand,  scarce  conscious  what  he 
was  doing.  "  Oh,  Tom,  my  boy,  it  is  killing  me  !  " 

Tom  had  his  master's  hands  between  his  own ;  and,  with 
tears  streaming  down  his  dark  cheeks,  looked  up  for  help 
where  he  had  always  been  used  to  look. 

"  Pray  that  this  may  be  cut  short !  "  said  St.  Clare,  — 
"  this  wrings  my  heart." 


52  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  Oh,  bless  the  Lord  !  it 's  over,  —  it 's  over,  dear 
Master !  "  said  Tom  ;  "  look  at  her." 

The  child  lay  panting  on  her  pillows,  as  one  exhausted, 
—  the  large  clear  eyes  rolled  up  and  fixed.  And  what 
said  those  eyes,  that  spoke  so  much  of  heaven  ?  Earth  was 
past,  and  earthly  pain  ;  hut  so  solemn,  so  mysterious,  was 
the  triumphant  brightness  of  that  face  that  it  choked  even 
the  sobs  of  sorrow.  They  pressed  around  her  in  breathless 
stillness. 

"  Eva,"  said  St.  Clare  gently. 

She  did  not  hear. 

"  Oh,  Eva,  tell  us  what  you  see  !  What  is  it  ?  "  said 
her  father. 

A  bright,  a  glorious  smile  passed  over  her  face,  and  she 
said  brokenly,  "  Oh  !  love,  —joy,  —  peace  !  "  gave  one  sigh, 
and  passed  from  death  unto  life  ! 

Farewell,  beloved  child  !  the  bright,  eternal  doors  have 
closed  after  thee ;  we  shall  see  thy  sweet  face  no  more. 
Oh,  woe  for  them  who  watched  thy  entrance  into  heaven, 
when  they  shall  wake  and  find  only  the  cold  gray  sky  of 
daily  life,  and  thou  gone  forever ! 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  53 


CHAPTEE   XXVII 

"  THIS    IS    THE    LAST    OF    EARTH  " 

John  Q.  Adams. 

THE  statuettes  and  pictures  in  -Eva's  room  were  shrouded 
in  white  napkins,  and  only  hushed  breathings  and  muffled 
footfalls  were  heard  there,  and  the  light  stole  in  solemnly 
through  windows  partially  darkened  by  closed  blinds.  The 
bed  was  draped  in  white  ;  and  there,  beneath  the  drooping 
angel  figure,  lay  a  little  sleeping  form,  —  sleeping  never  to 
waken ! 

There  she  lay,  robed  in  one  of  the  simple  Avhite  dresses 
she  had  been  wont  to  wear  when  living  ;  the  rose-colored 
light  through  the  curtains  cast  over  the  icy  coldness  of 
death  a  warm  glow.  The  heavy  eyelashes  drooped  softly 
on  the  pure  cheek  ;  the  head  was  turned  a  little  to  one  side, 
as  if  in  natural  sleep,  but  there  was  diffused  over  every 
lineament  of  the  face  that  high  celestial  expression,  that 
mingling  of  rapture  and  repose,  which  showed  it  was  no 
earthly  or  temporary  sleep,  but  the  long,  sacred  rest  which 
"He  giveth  to  his  beloved.'' 

There  is  no  death  to  such  as  thou,  dear  Eva !  neither 
darkness  nor  shadow  of  death ;  only  such  a  bright  fading 
as  when  the  morning  star  fades  in  the  golden  dawn.  Thine 
is  the  victory  without  the  battle,  —  the  crown  without  the 
conflict. 

So  did  St.  Clare  think,  as,  with  folded  arms,  he  stood 
there  gazing.  Ah  !  who  shall  say  what  he  did  think  ?  for, 
from  the  hour  that  voices  had  said,  in  the  dying  chamber, 
"  She  is  gone,"  it  had  been  all  a  dreary  mist,  a  heavy  "  dim 
ness  of  anguish."  He  had  heard  voices  around  him,  he 


54  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

had  had  questions  asked,  and  answered  them ;  they  had 
asked  him  when  he  would  have  the  funeral,  and  where 
they  should  lay  her ;  and  he  had  answered,  impatiently, 
that  he  cared  not. 

Adolph  and  Rosa  had  arranged  the  chamber  ;  volatile, 
fickle,  and  childish  as  they  generally  were,  they  were  soft 
hearted  and  full  of  feeling ;  and,  while  Miss  Ophelia  pre 
sided  over  the  general  details  of  order  and  neatness,  it  was 
their  hands  that  added  those  soft,  poetic  touches  to  the  ar 
rangements  that  took  from  the  death-room  the  grim  and 
ghastly  air  which  too  often  marks  a  New  England  funeral. 

There  were  still  flowers  on  the  shelves,  —  all  white,  deli 
cate,  and  fragrant,  with  graceful,  drooping  leaves.  Eva's 
little  table,  covered  with  white,  bore  on  it  her  favorite  vase, 
with  a  single  white  moss  rosebud  in  it.  The  folds  of  the 
drapery,  the  fall  of  the  curtains,  had  been  arranged  and 
rearranged  by  Adolph  and  Rosa,  with  that  nicety  of  eye 
which  characterizes  their  race.  Even  now,  while  St.  Clare 
stood  there  thinking,  little  Rosa  tripped  softly  into  the 
chamber  with  a  basket  of  white  flowers.  She  stepped  back 
when  she  saw  St.  Clare,  and  stopped  respectfully ;  but, 
seeing  that  he  did  not  observe  her,  she  came  forward  to 
place  them  around  the  dead.  St.  Clare  saw  her  as  in  a 
dream,  while  she  placed  in  the  small  hands  a  fair  cape  jes 
samine,  and  with  admirable  taste  disposed  other  flowers 
around  the  couch. 

The  door  opened  again,  and  Topsy,  her  eyes  swelled 
with  crying,  appeared,  holding  something  under  her  apron. 
Rosa  made  a  quick,  forbidding  gesture  ;  but  she  took  a  step 
into  the  room. 

"  You  must  go  out,"  said  Rosa,  in  a  sharp,  positive 
whisper  ;  "  you  have  n't  any  business  here  !  " 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  !  I  brought  a  flower,  —  such  a  pretty 
one !  "  said  Topsy,  holding  up  a  half -blown  tea  rosebud. 
"  Do  let  me  put  just  one  there." 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  55 

"  Get  along/*'  said  Rosa  more  decidedly. 

"  Let  her  stay !  "  said  St.  Clare,  suddenly  stamping  his 
foot.  "  She  shall  come.'* 

Rosa  suddenly  retreated,  and  Topsy  came  forward  and 
laid  her  offering  at  the  feet  of  the  corpse  ;  then  suddenly, 
with  a  wild  and  bitter  cry,  she  threw  herself  on  the  floor 
alongside  the  bed,  and  wept,  and  moaned  aloud. 

Miss  Ophelia  hastened  into  the  room,  and  tried  to  raise 
and  silence  her ;  but  in  vain. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Eva !  oh,  Miss  Eva !  I  wish  I  ?s  dead,  too, 
-  I  do  !  " 

There  was  a  piercing  wildness  in  the  cry ;  the  blood 
flushed  into  St.  Clare's  white,  marble-like  face,  and  the  first 
tears  he  had  shed  since  Eva  died  stood  in  his  eyes. 

"  Get  up,  child,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  in  a  softened  voice ; 
"  don't  cry  so.  Miss  Eva  is  gone  to  heaven ;  she  is  an 
angel." 

"  But  I  can't  see  her  !  "  said  Topsy.  "  I  never  shall  see 
her  !  "  and  she  sobbed  again. 

They  all  stood  a  moment  in  silence. 

"  She  said  she  loved  me,"  said  Topsy,  — "  she  did  ! 
Oh,  dear  !  Oh,  dear  !  there  ain't  nobody  left  now,  —  there 
ain't !  " 

"  That 's  true  enough,"  said  St.  Clare  ;  "  but  do,"  he  said 
to  Miss  Ophelia,  "  see  if  you  can't  comfort  the  poor  crea 
ture." 

"  I  jist  wish  I  had  n't  never  been  born,"  said  Topsy. 
"  I  did  n't  want  to  be  born,  noways ;  and  I  don't  see  no  use 
on  't." 

Miss  Ophelia  raised  her  gently  but  firmly,  and  took  her 
from  the  room  ;  but  as  she  did  so,  some  tears  fell  from  her 
eyes. 

"  Topsy,  you  poor  child,"  she  said,  as  she  led  her  into 
her  room,  "  don't  give  up  !  /  can  love  you,  though  I  am 
not  like  that  dear  little  child.  I  hope  1 7ve  learnt  some- 


56  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

thing  of  the  love  of  Christ  from  her.  I  can  love  you  ;  I  do  ; 
and  I  '11  try  to  help  you  to  grow  up  a  good  Christian  girl." 

Miss  Ophelia's  voice  was  more  than  her  words,  and  more 
than  that  were  the  honest  tears  that  fell  down  her  face. 
From  that  hour  she  acquired  an  influence  over  the  mind  of 
the  destitute  child  that  she  never  lost. 

"  Oh,  my  Eva,  whose  little  hour  on  earth  did  so  much 
of  good,"  thought  St.  Clare,  "  what  account  have  I  to  give 
for  my  long  years  ?  " 

There  were,  for  a  while,  soft  whisperings  and  footfalls  in 
the  chamber,  as  one  after  another  stole  in,  to  look  at  the 
dead ;  and  then  came  the  little  coffin  ;  and  then  there  was  a 
funeral,  and  carriages  drove  to  the  door,  and  strangers  came 
and  were  seated  ;  and  there  were  white  scarfs  and  rihbons, 
and  crape  bands,  and  mourners  dressed  in  black  crape  ;  and 
there  were  words  read  from  the  Bible,  and  prayers  offered; 
and  St.  Clare  lived,  and  walked,  arid  moved,  as  one  who  has 
shed  every  tear  ;  to  the  last  he  saw  only  one  thing,  that 
golden  head  in  the  coffin  ;  but  then  he  saw  the  cloth  spread 
over  it,  the  lid  of  the  coffin  closed  ;  and  he  walked,  when 
he  was  put  beside  the  others,  down  to  a  little  place  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden,  and  there,  by  the  mossy  seat  where 
she  and  Tom  had  talked,  and  sung,  and  read  so  often,  was 
the  little  grave.  St.  Clare  stood  beside  it,  —  looked  va 
cantly  down ;  he  saw  them  lower  the  little  coffin ;  he  heard, 
dimly,  the  solemn  words,  "  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the 
Life  ;  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet 
shall  he  live  j  "  and,  as  the  earth  was  cast  in  and  filled  up 
the  little  grave,  he  could  not  realize  that  it  was  his  Eva 
that  they  were  hiding  from  his  sight. 

Nor  was  it !  —  not  Eva,  but  only  the  frail  seed  of  that 
bright,  immortal  form  with  which  she  shall  yet  come  forth 
in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus ! 

And  then  all  were  gone,  and  the  mourners  went  back  to 
the  place  which  should  know  her  no  more ;  and  Marie's 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  57 

room  was  darkened,  and  she  lay  on  the  bed,  sobbing  and 
moaning  in  uncontrollable  grief,  and  calling  every  moment 
for  the  attentions  of  all  her  servants.  Of  course,  they  had 
no  time  to  cry,  —  why  should  they  ?  the  grief  was  her  grief, 
and  she  was  fully  convinced  that  nobody  on  earth  did,  could, 
or  would  feel  it  as  she  did. 

"  St.  Clare  did  not  shed  a  tear,57  she  said ;  "  he  did  n't 
sympathize  with  her ;  it  was  perfectly  wonderful  to  think 
how  hard-hearted  and  unfeeling  he  was,  when  he  must  know 
how  she  suffered.'7 

So  much  are  people  the  slave  of  their  eye  and  ear  that 
many  of  the  servants  really  thought  that  Missis  was  the 
principal  sufferer  in  the  case,  especially  as  Marie  began  to 
have  hysterical  spasms,  and  sent  for  the  doctor,  and  at  last 
declared  herself  dying  ;  and,  in  the  running  and  scampering, 
and  bringing  up  hot  bottles,  and  heating  of  flannels,  and 
chafing,  and  fussing,  that  ensued,  there  was  quite  a  diversion. 

Tom,  however,  had  a  feeling  at  his  own  heart,  that  drew 
him  to  his  master.  He  followed  him  wherever  he  walked, 
wistfully  and  sadly  ;  and  when  he  saw  him  sitting,  so  pale 
and  quiet,  in  Eva's  room,  holding  before  his  eyes  her  little 
open  Bible,  though  seeing  no  letter  or  word  of  what  was  in 
it,  there  was  more  sorrow  to  Tom  in  that  still,  fixed,  tearless 
eye  than  in  all  Marie's  moans  and  lamentations. 

In  a  few  days  the  St.  Clare  family  were  back  again  in  the 
city  ;  Augustine,  with  the  restlessness  of  grief,  longing  for 
another  scene,  to  change  the  current  of  his  thoughts.  So 
they  left  the  house  and  garden,  with  its  little  grave,  and 
came  back  to  New  Orleans ;  and  St.  Clare  walked  the  streets 
busily,  and  strove  to  fill  up  the  chasm  in  his  heart  with 
hurry  and  bustle,  and  change  of  place ;  and  people  who  saw 
him  in  the  street,  or  met  him  at  the  cafe,  knew  of  his  loss 
only  by  the  weed  on  his  hat ;  for  there  he  was,  smiling  and 
talking,  and  reading  the  newspaper,  and  speculating  on  poli 
tics,  and  attending  to  business  matters ;  and  who  could  see 


58  UNCLE   TOM'S  CABIN;    OR 

that  all  this  smiling  outside  was  but  a  hollow  shell  over  a 
heart  that  was  a  dark  and  silent  sepulchre  ? 

"  Mr.  St.  Clare  is  a  singular  man/'  said  Marie  to  Miss 
Ophelia,  in  a  complaining  tone.  "  I  used  to  think,  if  there 
was  anything  in  the  world  he  did  love,  it  was  our  dear  little 
Eva  ;  but  he  seems  to  be  forgetting  her  very  easily.  I  can 
not  ever  get  him  to  talk  about  her.  I  really  did  think  he 
would  show  more  feeling  !  " 

"  Still  waters  run  deepest,  they  used  to  tell  me,"  said 
Miss  Ophelia  oracularly. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  believe  in  such  things ;  it 's  all  talk.  If 
people  have  feeling,  they  will  show  it,  —  they  can't  help 
it ;  but,  then,  it 's  a  great  misfortune  to  have  feeling.  I  'd 
rather  have  been  made  like  St.  Clare.  My  feelings  prey 
upon  me  so  !  " 

"  Sure,  Missis,  Mas'r  St.  Clare  is  gettin'  thin  as  a  shadder. 
They  say,  he  don't  ever  eat  nothin',"  said  Mammy.  "  I 
know  he  don't  forget  Miss  Eva ;  I  know  there  could  n't 
nobody,  —  dear,  little,  blessed  cretur !  "  she  added,  wiping 
her  eyes. 

"  Well,  at  all  events,  he  has  no  consideration  for  me," 
said  Marie ;  "  he  has  n't  spoken  one  word  of  sympathy,  and 
he  must  know  how  much  more  a  mother  feels  than  any  man 
can." 

"  The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness/'  said  Miss 
Ophelia  gravely. 

"  That 's  just  what  I  think.  I  know  just  what  I  feel, 
—  nobody  else  seems  to.  Eva  used  to,  but  she  is  gone  !  " 
and  Marie  lay  back  on  her  lounge,  and  began  to  sob  dis 
consolately. 

Marie  was  one  of  those  unfortunately  constituted  mortals, 
in  whose  eyes  whatever  is  lost  and  gone  assumes  a  value 
which  it  never  had  in  possession.  Whatever  she  had,  she 
seemed  to  survey  only  to  pick  flaws  in  it  j  but,  once  fairly 
away,  there  was  no  end  to  her  valuation  of  it. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE  LOWLY  59 

While  this  conversation  was  taking  place  in  the  parlor, 
another  was  going  on  in  St.  Clare's  library. 

Tom,  who  was  always  uneasily  following  his  master  about, 
had  seen  him  go  to  his  library  some  hours  before  ;  and, 
after  vainly  waiting  for  him  to  come  out,  determined,  at 
last,  to  make  an  errand  in.  He  entered  softly.  St.  Clare 
lay  on  his  lounge,  at  the  further  end  of  the  room.  He  was 
lying  on  his  face,  with  Eva's  Bible  open  before  him,  at  a 
little  distance.  Tom  walked  up,  and  stood  by  the  sofa. 
He  hesitated  ;  and,  while  he  was  hesitating,  St.  Clare  sud 
denly  raised  himself  up.  The  honest  face,  so  full  of  grief, 
and  with  such  an  imploring  expression  of  affection  and  sym 
pathy,  struck  his  master.  He  laid  his  hand  on  Tom's,  and 
bowed  down  his  forehead  on  it. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  my  boy,  the  whole  world  is  as  empty  as  an 
egg-shell." 

"  I  know  it,  Mas'r,  —  I  know  it,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but,  oh. 
if  Mas'r  could  only  look  up,  —  up  where  our  dear  Miss  Eva 
is,  —  up  to  the  dear  Lord  Jesus  !  " 

"  Ah,  Tom  !  I  do  look  up  ;  but  the  trouble  is,  I  don't 
see  anything  when  I  do.  I  wish  I  could." 

Tom  sighed  heavily. 

"  It  seems  to  be  given  to  children,  and  poor,  honest  fel 
lows  like  you,  to  see  what  we  can't,"  said  St.  Clare.  "  How 
comes  it  ?  " 

"  Thou  hast  '  hid  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  revealed 
unto  babes,'  "  murmured  Tom ;  "  t  even  so,  Father,  for  so 
it  seemed  good  in  thy  sight.'  ' 

"  Tom,  I  don't  believe,  —  I  can't  believe,  —  I  've  got  the 
habit  of  doubting,"  said  St.  Clare.  "  I  want  to  believe  this 
Bible,  —  and  I  can't." 

"  Dear  Mas'r,  pray  to  the  good  Lord,  l  Lord,  I  believe ; 
help  thou  my  unbelief.'  ' 

"  Who  knows  anything  about  anything  ?  "  said  St.  Clare, 
his  eyes  wandering  dreamily,  and  speaking  to  himself. 


60  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"  Was  all  that  beautiful  love  and  faith  only  one  of  the  ever- 
shifting  phases  of  human  feeling,  having  nothing  real  to  rest 
on,  passing  away  with  the  little  breath  ?  And  is  there  no 
more  Eva,  — no  heaven,  — no  Christ,  — nothing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear  Mas'r,  there  is  !  I  know  it ;  1 7m  sure  of  it," 
said  Tom,  falling  on  his  knees.  "  Do,  do,  dear  Mas'r,  be 
lieve  it ! " 

"  How  do  you  know  there  7s  any  Christ,  Tom  ?  You 
never  saw  the  Lord." 

"  Felt  him  in  my  soul,  Mas'r,  —  feel  him  now  !  Oh, 
Mas'r,  when  I  was  sold  away  from  my  old  woman  and  the 
children,  I  was  jest  a' most  broke  up.  I  felt  as  if  there 
warn't  nothin'  left ;  and  then  the  good  Lord,  he  stood  by 
me,  and  he  says,  ( Fear  not,  Tom  ;  '  and  he  brings  light 
and  joy  into  a  poor  feller's  soul,  makes  all  peace  ;  and 
I  ?s  so  happy,  and  loves  everybody,  and  feels  willin'  jest  to 
be  the  Lord's,  and  have  the  Lord's  will  done,  and  be  put  jest 
where  the  Lord  wants  to  put  me.  I  know  it  could  n't  come 
from  me,  'cause  I 's  a  poor,  complainin'  cretur  ;  it  comes  from 
the  Lord;  and  I  know  he's  willin'  to  do  for  Mas'r." 

Tom  spoke  with  fast-running  tears  and  choking  voice. 
St.  Clare  leaned  his  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  wrung  the 
hard,  faithful,  black  hand. 

"  Tom,  you  love  me,"  he  said. 

"  I 's  willin'  to  lay  down  my  life,  this  blessed  day,  to  see 
Mas'r  a  Christian." 

"  Poor,  foolish  boy  !  "  said  St.  Clare,  half  raising  him 
self.  "  I  'm  not  worth  the  love  of  one  good,  honest  heart, 
like  yours." 

"  Oh,  Mas'r,  dere  's  more  than  me  loves  you,  —  the 
blessed  Lord  Jesus  loves  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  Tom  ?  "   said  St.  Clare. 

"  Feels  it  in  my  soul.  Oh,  Mas'r  !  '  the  love  of  Christ, 
that  passeth  knowledge.' ' 

"  Singular  ! "  said  St.  Clare,    turning  away,    "  that  the 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  61 

story  of  a  man  that  lived  and  died  eighteen  hundred  years 
ago  can  affect  people  so  yet.  But  he  was  no  man,"  he 
added  suddenly.  "  No  man  ever  had  such  long  and  living 
power  !  Oh,  that  I  could  believe  what  my  mother  taught 
me,  and  pray  as  I  did  when  I  was  a  boy ! " 

"  If  Mas'r  pleases,"  said  Tom,  "  Miss  Eva  used  to  read 
this  so  beautifully.  I  wish  Mas'r  'd  be  so  good  as  read  it. 
Don't  get  no  readin',  hardly,  now  Miss  Eva's  gone." 

The  chapter  was  the  eleventh  of  John,  —  the  touching 
account  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus.  St.  Clare  read  it  aloud, 
often  pausing  to  wrestle  down  feelings  which  were  roused 
by  the  pathos  of  the  story.  Tom  knelt  before  him,  with 
clasped  hands,  and  with  an  absorbed  expression  of  love, 
trust,  adoration,  on  his  quiet  face. 

"  Tom,"  said  his  master,  "  this  is  all  real  to  you." 

"  I  can  jest  fairly  see  it,  Mas'r,"  said  Torn. 

"  I  wish  I  had  your  eyes,  Tom." 

"  I  wish,  to  the  dear  Lord,  Mas'r  had  !  " 

"But,  Tom,  you  know  that  I  have  a  great  deal  more 
knowledge  than  you ;  what  if  I  should  tell  you  that  I  don't 
believe  this  Bible  ?  " 

"Oh,  Mas'r,"  said  Tom,  holding  up  his  hands,  with  a 
deprecating  gesture. 

"  Would  n't  it  shake  your  faith  some,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Not  a  grain,"  said  Tom. 

"  Why,  Tom,  you  must  know  I  know  the  most." 

"  Oh,  Mas'r,  have  n't  you  jest  read  how  he  hides  from 
the  wise  and  prudent,  and  reveals  unto  babes  ?  But  Mas'r 
was  n't  in  earnest,  for  sartin,  now  ?  "  said  Tom  anxiously. 

"No,  Tom,  I  was  not.  I  don't  disbelieve,  and  I  think 
there  is  reason  to  believe ;  and  still  I  don't.  It's  a  trouble 
some  bad  habit  I  've  got,  Tom." 

"  If  Mas'r  would  only  pray  !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  I  don't,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Does  Mas'r  ?  " 


62  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"  I  would,  Tom,  if  there  was  anybody  there  when  I  pray ; 
but  it 's  all  speaking  unto  nothing  when  I  do.  But  come, 
Tom,  you  pray,  now,  and  show  me  who." 

Tom's  heart  was  full ;  he  poured  it  out  in  prayer,  like 
waters  that  have  been  long  suppressed.  One  thing  was 
plain  enough :  Tom  thought  there  was  somebody  to  hear, 
whether  there  were  or  not.  In  fact,  St.  Clare  felt  himself 
borne,  on  the  tide  of  his  faith  and  feeling,  almost  to  the 
gates  of  that  heaven  he  seemed  so  vividly  to  conceive.  It 
seemed  to  bring  him  nearer  to  Eva. 

"  Thank  you,  my  boy,"  said  St.  Clare,  when  Tom  rose  ; 
"I  like  to  hear  you,  Tom;  but  go  now,  and  leave  me 
alone :  some  other  time,  I  '11  talk  more." 

Tom  silently  left  the  room. 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  63 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

REUNION 

WEEK  after  week  glided  away  in  the  St.  Clare  mansion, 
and  the  waves  of  life  settled  back  to  their  usual  flow, 
where  that  little  bark  had  gone  down.  For  how  imperi 
ously,  how  coolly,  in  disregard  of  all  one's  feeling,  does 
the  hard,  cold,  uninteresting  course  of  daily  realities  move 
on!  Still  must  we  eat,  and  drink,  and  sleep,  and  wake 
again,  —  still  bargain,  buy,  sell,  ask  and  answer  questions, 
—  pursue,  in  short,  a  thousand  shadows,  though  all  inter 
est  in  them  be  over;  the  cold,  mechanical  habit  of  living 
remaining,  after  all  vital  interest  in  it  has  fled. 

All  the  interests  and  hopes  of  St.  Clare's  life  had  uncon 
sciously  wound  themselves  around  this  child.  It  was  for 
Eva  that  he  had  managed  his  property;  it  was  for  Eva 
that  he  had  planned  the  disposal  of  his  time;  and,  to  do 
this  and  that  for  Eva,  — to  buy,  improve,  alter,  and  ar 
range,  or  dispose  something  for  her,  —  had  been  so  long 
his  habit,  that  now  she  was  gone,  there  seemed  nothing  to 
be  thought  of,  and  nothing  to  be  done. 

True,  there  was  another  life,  —  a  life  which,  once  be 
lieved  in,  stands  as  a  solemn,  significant  figure  before  the 
otherwise  unmeaning  ciphers  of  time,  changing  them  to 
orders  of  mysterious,  untold  value.  St.  Clare  knew  this 
well;  and  often,  in  many  a  weary  hour,  he  heard  that 
slender,  childish  voice  calling  him  to  the  skies,  and  saw 
that  little  hand  pointing  to  him  the  way  of  life;  but  a 
heavy  lethargy  of  sorrow  lay  on  him,  —  he  could  not  arise. 
He  had  one  of  those  natures  which  could  better  and  more 


64  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

clearly  conceive  of  religious  things  from  its  own  percep 
tions  and  instincts,  than  many  a  matter-of-fact  and  practi 
cal  Christian.  The  gift  to  appreciate  and  the  sense  to  feel 
the  finer  shades  and  relations  of  moral  things  often  seems 
an  attribute  of  those  whose  whole  life  shows  a  careful 
disregard  of  them.  Hence  Moore,  Byron,  Goethe,  often 
speak  words  more  wisely  descriptive  of  the  true  religious 
sentiment  than  another  man,  whose  whole  life  is  governed 
by  it.  In  such  minds,  disregard  of  religion  is  a  more 
fearful  treason,  —  a  more  deadly  sin. 

St.  Clare  had  never  pretended  to  govern  himself  by  any 
religious  obligation;  and  a  certain  fineness  of  nature  gave 
him  such  an  instinctive  view  of  the  extent  of  the  require 
ments  of  Christianity  that  he  shrank,  by  anticipation, 
from  what  he  felt  would  be  the  exactions  of  his  own  con 
science,  if  he  once  did  resolve  to  assume  them.  For,  so 
inconsistent  is  human  nature,  especially  in  the  ideal,  that 
not  to  undertake  a  thing  at  all  seems  better  than  to  under 
take  and  come  short. 

Still  St.  Clare  was,  in  many  respects,  another  man.  He 
read  his  little  Eva's  Bible  seriously  and  honestly;  he 
thought  more  soberly  and  practically  of  his  relations  to  his 
servants,  —  enough  to  make  him  extremely  dissatisfied 
with  both  his  past  and  present  course ;  and  one  thing  he 
did,  soon  after  his  return  to  New  Orleans,  and  that  was  to 
commence  the  legal  steps  necessary  to  Tom's  emancipation, 
which  was  to  be  perfected  as  soon  as  he  could  get  through 
the  necessary  formalities.  Meantime,  he  attached  himself 
to  Tom  more  and  more  every  day.  In  all  the  wide  world, 
there  was  nothing  that  seemed  to  remind  him  so  much  of 
Eva;  and  he  would  insist  on  keeping  him  constantly  about 
him,  and,  fastidious  and  unapproachable  as  he  was  with 
regard  to  his  deeper  feelings,  he  almost  thought  aloud  to 
Tom.  Nor  would  any  one  have  'wondered  at  it,  who  had 
seen  the  expression  of  affection  and  devotion  with  which 
Tom  continually  followed  his  young  master. 


LIFE  AMONG  THE   LOWLY  65 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  St.  Clare,  the  day  after  he  had  com 
menced  the  legal  formalities  for  his  enfranchisement,  "I  'm 
going  to  make  a  free  man  of  you;  so,  have  your  trunk 
packed,  and  get  ready  to  set  out  for  Kentuck." 

The  sudden  light  of  joy  that  shone  in  Tom's  face  as  he 
raised  his  hands  to  Heaven,  his  emphatic  "Bless  the 
Lord ! "  rather  discomposed  St.  Clare ;  he  did  not  like  it 
that  Tom  should  be  so  ready  to  leave  him. 

"You  haven't  had  such  very  bad  times  here  that  you 
need  be  in  such  a  rapture,  Tom,"  he  said  dryly. 

"No,  no,  Mas'r!  't ain't  that,  — it's  bein'  a, free  man! 
That 's  what  I  'm  joy  in'  for." 

"Why,  Tom,  don't  you  think,  for  your  own  part,  you  've 
been  better  off  than  to  be  free  ?  " 

"No,  indeed,  Mas'r  St.  Clare,"  said  Tom,  with  a  flash 
of  energy.  "No,  indeed!" 

"Why,  Tom,  you  couldn't  possibly  have  earned,  by 
your  work,  such  clothes  and  such  a  living  as  I  have  given 
you. " 

"Knows  all  that,  Mas'r  St.  Clare;  Mas'r 's  been  too 
good;  but,  Mas'r,  I'd  rather  have  poor  clothes,  poor 
house,  poor  everything,  and  have  them  mine,  than  have 
the  best,  and  have  'em  any  man's  else,  — I  had  so,  Mas'r; 
I  think  it 's  natur,  Mas'r." 

"I  suppose  so,  Tom,  and  you'll  be  going  off  and  leav 
ing  me,  in  a  month  or  so,"  he  added,  rather  discontentedly. 
"Though  why  you  shouldn't,  no  mortal  knows,"  he  said, 
in  a  gayer  tone;  and,  getting  up,  he  began  to  walk  the 
floor. 

"Not  while  Mas'r  is  in  trouble,"  said  Tom.  "I'll 
stay  with  Mas'r  as  long  as  he  wants  me,  — so  as  I  can  be 
any  use." 

"Not  while  I  'm  in  trouble,  Tom? "  said  St.  Clare,  look 
ing  sadly  out  of  the  window.  .  .  .  "And  when  will  my 
trouble  be  over  1 " 

VOL.  II. 


66  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"When  Mas'r  St.  Clare  's  a  Christian,"  said  Tom. 

"And  you  really  mean  to  stay  by  till  that  day  comes? " 
said  St.  Clare,  half  smiling,  as  he  turned  from  the  win 
dow,  and  laid  his  hand  on  Tom's  shoulder.  "Ah,  Tom, 
you  soft,  silly  boy!  I  won't  keep  you  till  that  day.  Go 
home  to  your  wife  and  children,  and  give  my  love  to  all. " 

"I's  faith  to  believe  that  day  will  come,"  said  Tom 
earnestly,  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes;  "the  Lord  has  work 
for  Mas'r." 

"A  work,  hey?"  said  St.  Clare;  "well,  now,  Tom, 
give  me  your  views  on  what  sort  of  a  work  it  is;  —  let's 
hear." 

"Why,  even  a  poor  fellow  like  me  has  a  work  from  the 
Lord;  and  Mas'r  St.  Clare,  that  has  larnin',  and  riches, 
and  friends  —  how  much  he  might  do  for  the  Lord ! " 

"Tom,  you  seem  to  think  the  Lord  needs  a  great  deal 
done  for  him,"  said  St.  Clare,  smiling. 

"We  does  for  the  Lord  when  we  does  for  his  critturs," 
said  Tom. 

"Good  theology,  Tom;  better  than  Dr.  B.  preaches, 
I  dare  swear,"  said  St.  Clare. 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the  announce 
ment  of  some  visitors. 

Marie  St.  Clare  felt  the  loss  of  Eva  as  deeply  as  she 
could  feel  anything;  and  as  she  was  a  woman  that  had  a 
great  faculty  of  making  everybody  unhappy  when  she  was, 
her  immediate  attendants  had  still  stronger  reason  to  re 
gret  the  loss  of  their  young  mistress,  whose  winning  ways 
and  gentle  intercessions  had  so  often  been  a  shield  to  them 
from  the  tyrannical  and  selfish  exactions  of  her  mother. 
Poor  old  Mammy,  in  particular,  whose  heart,  severed 
from  all  natural  domestic  ties,  had  consoled  itself  with 
this  one  beautiful  being,  was  almost  heart-broken.  She 
cried  day  and  night,  and  was,  from  excess  of  sorrow,  less 
skillful  and  alert  in  her  ministrations  on  her  mistress  than 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  67 

usual,  which  drew  down  a  constant  storm  of  invectives  on 
her  defenseless  head. 

Miss  Ophelia  felt  the  loss;  but,  in  her  good  and  honest 
heart,  it  bore  fruit  unto  everlasting  life.  She  was  more 
softened,  more  gentle;  and,  though  equally  assiduous  in 
every  duty,  it  was  with  a  chastened  and  quiet  air,  as  one 
who  communed  with  her  own  heart  not  in  vain.  She  was 
more  diligent  in  teaching  Topsy,  —  taught  her  mainly 
from  the  Bible,  —  did  not  any  longer  shrink  from  her 
touch,  or  manifest  an  ill-repressed  disgust,  because  she  felt 
none.  She  viewed  her  now  through  the  softened  medium 
that  Eva's  hand  had  first  held  before  her  eye,  and  saw  in 
her  only  an  immortal  creature,  whom  God  had  sent  to  be 
led  by  her  to  glory  and  virtue.  Topsy  did  not  become  at 
once  a  saint;  but  the  life  and  death  of  Eva  did  work  a 
marked  change  in  her.  The  callous  indifference  was  gone; 
there  was  now  sensibility,  hope,  desire,  and  the  striving 
for  good,  —  a  strife  irregular,  interrupted,  suspended  oft, 
but  yet  renewed  again. 

One  day,  when  Topsy  had  been  sent  for  by  Miss  Ophe 
lia,  she  came,  hastily  thrusting  something  into  her  bosom. 

"What  are  you  doing  there,  you  limb?  You've  been 
stealing  something,  I  '11  be  bound,"  said  the  imperious  little 
Rosa,  who  had  been  sent  to  call  her,  seizing  her,  at  the 
same  time,  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"You  go  'long,  Miss  Rosa!"  said  Topsy,  pulling  from 
her;  "  't  ain't  none  o'  your  business!  " 

"None  o'  your  sa'ce!"  said  Rosa.  "I  saw  you  hiding 
something,  —  I  know  yer  tricks, "  and  Rosa  seized  her 
arm,  and  tried  to  force  her  hand  into  her  bosom,  while 
Topsy,  enraged,  kicked  and  fought  valiantly  for  what  she 
considered  her  rights.  The  clamor  and  confusion  of  the 
battle  drew  Miss  Ophelia  and  St.  Clare  both  to  the  spot. 

"She  's  been  stealing!  "  said  Rosa. 

"I  hain't,  neither!"  vociferated  Topsy,  sobbing  with 
passion. 


68  UXCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"Give  me  that,  whatever  it  is!"  said  Miss  Ophelia 
firmly. 

Topsy  hesitated;  but,  on  a  second  order,  pulled  out  of 
her  bosom  a  little  parcel  done  up  in  the  foot  of  one  of 
her  own  old  stockings. 

Miss  Ophelia  turned  it  out.  There  was  a  small  book, 
which  had  been  given  to  Topsy  by  Eva,  containing  a  single 
verse  of  Scripture,  arranged  for  every  day  in  the  year,  and 
in  a  paper  the  curl  of  hair  that  she  had  given  her  on  that 
memorable  day  when  she  had  taken  her  last  farewell. 

St.  Clare  was  a  good  deal  affected  at  the  sight  of  it;  the 
little  book  had  been  rolled  in  a  long  strip  of  black  crape, 
torn  from  the  funeral  weeds. 

"  What  did  you  wrap  this  round  the  book  for  1  "  said 
St.  Clare,  holding  up  the  crape. 

"'Cause, --  'cause, --  'cause  'twas  Miss  Eva's.  Oh, 
don't  take  'em  away,  please!"  she  said;  and,  sitting  flat 
down  on  the  floor,  and  putting  her  apron  over  her  head, 
she  began  to  sob  vehemently. 

It  was  a  curious  mixture  of  the  pathetic  and  the  lu 
dicrous,  —  the  little  old  stocking,  —  black  crape,  —  text 
book,  —  fair,  soft  curl,  — and  Topsy 's  utter  distress. 

St.  Clare  smiled;  but  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes,  as  he 
said,  — 

"Come,  come, — don't  cry;  you  shall  have  them!" 
and,  putting  them  together,  he  threw  them  into  her  lap, 
and  drew  Miss  Ophelia  with  him  into  the  parlor. 

"I  really  think  you  can  make  something  of  that  con 
cern,"  he  said,  pointing  with  his  thumb  backward  over  his 
shoulder.  "Any  mind  that  is  capable  of  a  real  sorrow  is 
capable  of  good.  You  must  try  and  do  something  with  her. " 

"The  child  has  improved  greatly,"  said  Miss  Ophelia. 
"I  have  great  hopes  of  her;  but,  Augustine,"  she  said, 
laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "one  thing  I  want  to  ask; 
whose  is  this  child  to  be  1  —  yours  or  mine  ?  " 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  LOWLY  69 

"Why,  I  gave  her  to  you,"  said  Augustine. 

"But  not  legally;  —  I  want  her  to  be  mine  legally," 
said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"Whew!  cousin,"  said  Augustine.  "What  will  the 
Abolition  Society  think?  They'll  have  a  clay  of  fasting 
appointed  for  this  backsliding,  if  you  become  a  slave 
holder!" 

"Oh,  nonsense!  I  want  her  mine,  that  I  may  have  a 
right  to  take  her  to  the  free  states,  and  give  her  her  liberty, 
that  all  I  am  trying  to  do  be  not  undone." 

"  Oh,  cousin,  what  an  awful  '  doing  evil  that  good  may 
come  ' !  I  can't  encourage  it." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  joke,  but  to  reason,"  said  Miss 
Ophelia.  "There  is  no  use  in  my  trying  to  make  this 
child  a  Christian  child,  unless  I  save  her  from  all  the 
chances  and  reverses  of  slavery ;  and,  if  you  really  are  will 
ing  I  should  have  her,  I  want  you  to  give  me  a  deed  of 
gift,  or  some  legal  paper." 

"Well,  well,"  said  St.  Clare,  "I  will;"  and  he  sat 
down,  and  unfolded  a  newspaper  to  read. 

"But  I  want  it  done  now,"  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"What's  your  hurry?" 

"Because  now  is  the  only  time  there  ever  is  to  do  a 
thing  in,"  said  Miss  Ophelia.  "Come,  now,  here  's  paper, 
pen,  and  ink;  just  write  a  paper." 

St.  Clare,  like  most  men  of  his  class  of  mind,  cordially 
hated  the  present  tense  of  action,  generally;  and,  there 
fore,  he  was  considerably  annoyed  by  Miss  Ophelia's  down- 
rightness. 

"Why,  what 's  the  matter?  "  said  he.  "Can't  you  take 
my  word  ?  One  would  think  you  had  taken  lessons  of  the 
JewTs,  coming  at  a  fellow  so !  " 

"I  want  to  make  sure  of  it,"  said  Miss  Ophelia.  "You 
may  die,  or  fail,  and  then  Topsy  be  hustled  off  to  auction, 
spite  of  all  I  can  do." 


70  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"Keally,  you  are  quite  provident.  Well,  seeing  I  'm  in 
the  hands  of  a  Yankee,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  con 
cede  ;  "  and  St.  Clare  rapidly  wrote  off  a  deed  of  gift,  which, 
as  he  was  well  versed  in  the  forms  of  law,  he  could  easily 
do,  and  signed  his  name  to  it  in  sprawling  capitals,  con 
cluding  by  a  tremendous  flourish. 

"There,  isn't  that  black  and  white,  now,  Miss  Ver 
mont  ? "  he  said,  as  he  handed  it  to  her. 

"Good  boy,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  smiling.  "But  must 
it  not  be  witnessed  ?  " 

"Oh,  bother!  —  yes.  Here,"  he  said,  opening  the  door 
into  Marie's  apartment,  "Marie,  cousin  wants  your  auto 
graph;  just  put  your  name  down  here." 

"What 's  this?  "  said  Marie,  as  she  ran  over  the  paper. 
"Ridiculous!  I  thought  cousin  was  too  pious  for  such 
horrid  things,"  she  added,  as  she  carelessly  wrote  her 
name,  "but,  if  she  has  a  fancy  for  that  article,  I  am  sure 
she  's  welcome." 

"There,  now,  she's  yours,  body  and  soul,"  said  St. 
Clare,  handing  the  paper. 

"No  more  mine  now  than  she  was  before,"  said  Miss 
Ophelia.  "Nobody  but  God  has  a  right  to  give  her  to  me; 
but  I  can  protect  her  now." 

"Well,  she  's  yours  by  a  fiction  of  law,  then,"  said  St. 
Clare,  as  he  turned  back  into  the  parlor,  and  sat  down  to 
his  paper. 

Miss  Ophelia,  who  seldom  sat  much  in  Marie's  company, 
followed  him  into  the  parlor,  having  first  carefully  laid 
away  the  paper. 

"Augustine,"  she  said  suddenly,  as  she  sat  knitting, 
"have  you  ever  made  any  provision  for  your  servants,  in 
case  of  your  death  ?  " 

"No,"  said  St.  Clare,  as  he  read  on. 

"Then  all  your  indulgence  to  them  may  prove  a  great 
cruelty,  by  and  by." 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  LOWLY  71 

St.  Clare  had  often  thought  the  same  thing  himself ;  but 
he  answered  negligently,  — 

"Well,  I  mean  to  make  a  provision,  by  and  by." 

"When?"  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"Oh,  one  of  these  days." 

"What  if  you  should  die  first?  " 

"Cousin,  what's  the  matter?"  said  St.  Clare,  laying 
down  his  paper  and  looking  at  her.  "Do  you  think  I 
show  symptoms  of  yellow  fever  or  cholera,  that  you  are 
making  post-mortem  arrangements  with  such  zeal  ?  " 

"'In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death,'"  said  Miss 
Ophelia. 

St.  Clare  rose  up,  and  laying  the  paper  down  carelessly, 
walked  to  the  door  that  stood  open  on  the  veranda  to  put 
an  end  to  a  conversation  that  was  not  agreeable  to  him. 
Mechanically,  he  repeated  the  last  word  again,  — 
"  Death  !  "  —  and,  as  he  leaned  against  the  railings,  and 
watched  the  sparkling  water  as  it  rose  and  fell  in  the  foun 
tain,  and,  as  in  a  dim  and  dizzy  haze,  saw  the  flowers  and 
trees  and  vases  of  the  courts,  he  repeated  again  the  mystic 
word  so  common  in  every  mouth,  yet  of  such  fearful 
power,  — "DEATH!  "  "Strange  that  there  should  be  such 
a  word,"  he  said,  "and  such  a  thing,  and  we  ever  forget 
it;  that  one  should  be  living,  warm,  and  beautiful,  full  of 
hopes,  desires,  and  wants,  one  day,  and  the  next  be  gone, 
utterly  gone,  and  forever !  " 

It  was  a  warm,  golden  evening;  and,  as  he  walked  to 
the  other  end  of  the  veranda,  he  saw  Tom  busily  intent 
on  his  Bible,  pointing,  as  he  did  so,  with  his  finger  to 
each  successive  word,  and  whispering  them  to  himself  with 
an  earnest  air. 

"  Want  me  to  read  to  you,  Tom  1 "  said  St.  Clare,  seat 
ing  himself  carelessly  by  him. 

"If  Mas'r  pleases,"  said  Tom  gratefully,  "Mas'r  makes 
it  so  much  plainer." 


72  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

St.  Clare  took  the  book  and  glanced  at  the  place,  and 
began  reading  one  of  the  passages  which  Tom  had  desig 
nated  by  the  heavy  marks  around  it.  It  ran  as  follows :  — 

"When  the  Son  of  man  shall  come  in  his  glory,  and  all 
his  holy  angels  with  him,  then  shall  he  sit  upon  the  throne 
of  his  glory:  and  before  him  shall  be  gathered  all  nations; 
and  he  shall  separate  them  one  from  another,  as  a  shep 
herd  divide th  his  sheep  from  the  goats."  St.  Clare  read 
on  in  an  animated  voice,  till  he  came  to  the  last  of  the 
verses. 

"Then  shall  the  king  say  unto  them  on  his  left  hand, 
Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire:  for  I  was 
an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat:  I  was  thirsty,  and 
ye  gave  me  no  drink:  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  not 
in:  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  not:  I  was  sick,  and  in 
prison,  and  ye  visited  me  not.  Then  shall  they  answer 
unto  Him,  Lord,  when  saw  we  thee  an  hungered,  or 
athirst,  or  a  stranger,  or  naked,  or  sick,  or  in  prison,  and 
did  not  minister  unto  thee  1  Then  shall  he  say  unto  them, 
Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  to  one  of  the  least  of  these  my 
brethren,  ye  did  it  not  to  me." 

St.  Clare  seemed  struck  with  this  last  passage,  for  he 
read  it  twice,  —  the  second  time  slowly,  and  as  if  he  were 
revolving  the  words  in  his  mind.  . 

"Tom,"  he  said,  "these  folks  that  get  such  hard  measure 
seem  to  have  been  doing  just  what  I  have,  —  living  good, 
easy,  respectable  lives;  and  not  troubling  themselves  to 
inquire  how  many  of  their  brethren  were  hungry,  or 
athirst,  or  sick,  or  in  prison." 

Tom  did  not  answer. 

St.  Clare  rose  up  and  walked  thoughtfully  up  and  down 
the  veranda,  seeming  to  forget  everything  in  his  own 
thoughts ;  so  absorbed  was  he,  that  Tom  had  to  remind  him 
twice  that  the  tea-bell  had  rung,  before  he  could  get  his 
attention. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  73 

St.  Clare  was  absent  and  thoughtful,  all  tea-time.  After 
tea,  he  and  Marie  and  Miss  Ophelia  took  possession  of  the 
parlor,  almost  in  silence. 

Marie  disposed  herself  on  a  lounge,  under  a  silken  mos 
quito  curtain,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep.  Miss  Ophelia 
silently  busied  herself  with  her  knitting.  St.  Clare  sat 
down  to  the  piano,  and  began  playing  a  soft  and  melan 
choly  movement  with  the  ^Eolian  accompaniment.  He 
seemed  in  a  deep  reverie,  and  to  be  soliloquizing  to  himself 
by  music.  After  a  little,  he  opened  one  of  the  drawers, 
took  out  an  old  music-book  whose  leaves  were  yellow  with 
age,  and  began  turning  it  over. 

"There,"  he  said  to  Miss  Ophelia,  "this  was  one  of 
my  mother's  books, — and  here  is  her  handwriting, — 
come  and  look  at  it.  She  copied  and  arranged  this  from 
Mozart's  Requiem."  Miss  Ophelia  came  accordingly. 

"It  was  something  she  used  to  sing  often,"  said  St. 
Clare.  "I  think  I  can  hear  her  now." 

He  struck  a  few  majestic  chords,  and  began  singing  that 
grand  old  Latin  piece,  the  "Dies  Iree." 

Tom,  who  was  listening  in  the  outer  veranda,  was  drawn 
by  the  sound  to  the  very  door,  where  he  stood  earnestly. 
He  did  not  understand  the  words,  of  course ;  but  the  music 
and  manner  of  singing  appeared  to  affect  him  strongly, 
especially  when  St.  Clare  sang  the  more  pathetic  parts. 
Tom  would  have  sympathized  more  heartily,  if  he  had 
known  the  meaning  of  the  beautiful  words:  — 

"  Recordare  Jesu  pie 
Quod  sum  causa  tuae  vise 
Ne  me  perdas,  ilia  die; 
Quaerens  me  sedisti  lassus, 
Redemisti  crucem  passus, 
Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus."  * 

1  These  lines  have  been  thus  rather  inadequately  translated  :  — 

"  Think,  O  Jesus,  for  what  reason 
Thou  enduredst  earth's  spite  and  treason, 


74  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

St.  Clare  threw  a  deep  and  pathetic  expression  into  the 
words;  for  the  shadowy  veil  of  years  seemed  drawn  away, 
and  he  seemed  to  hear  his  mother's  voice  leading  his. 
Voice  and  instrument  seemed  both  living,  and  threw  out 
with  vivid  sympathy  those  strains  which  the  ethereal 
Mozart  first  conceived  as  his  own  dying  requiem. 

When  St.  Clare  had  done  singing,  he  sat  leaning  his  head 
upon  his  hand  a  few  moments,  and  then  began  walking  up 
and  down  the  floor. 

"What  a  sublime  conception  is  that  of  a  last  judgment!  " 
said  he,  —  "a  righting  of  all  the  wrongs  of  ages !  —  a  solv 
ing  of  all  moral  problems,  by  an  unanswerable  wisdom !  It 
is,  indeed,  a  wonderful  image." 

"It  is  a  fearful  one  to  us,"  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"It  ought  to  be  to  me,  I  suppose,"  said  St.  Clare,  stop 
ping,  thoughtfully.  "I  was  reading  to  Tom,  this  after 
noon,  that  chapter  in  Matthew  that  gives  an  account  of  it, 
and  I  have  been  quite  struck  with  it.  One  should  have 
expected  some  terrible  enormities  charged  to  those  who  are 
excluded  from  heaven,  as  the  reason ;  but  no,  —  they  are 
condemned  for  not  doing  positive  good,  as  if  that  included 
every  possible  harm." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  "it  is  impossible  for  a 
person  who  does  no  good  not  to  do  harm." 

"And  what,"  said  St.  Clare,  speaking  abstractedly,  but 
with  deep  feeling,  "what  shall  be  said  of  one  whose  own 
heart,  whose  education,  and  the  wants  of  society  have  called 
in  vain  to  some  noble  purpose;  who  has  floated  on,  a 
dreamy,  neutral  spectator  of  the  struggles,  agonies,  and 
wrongs  of  man,  when  he  should  have  been  a  worker  ? " 

"I  should  say,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  "that  he  ought  to 
repent,  and  begin  now." 

Nor  me  lose,  in  that  dread  season ; 
Seeking  me,  thy  worn  feet  hasted, 
On  the  cross  thy  soul  death  tasted, 
Let  not  all  these  toils  be  wasted." 


LIFE  AMONG  THE   LOWLY  75 

"Always  practical  and  to  the  point!"  said  St.  Clare, 
his  face  breaking  out  into  a  smile.  "You  never  leave  me 
any  time  for  general  reflections,  cousin;  you  always  bring 
me  short  up  against  the  actual  present;  you  have  a  kind 
of  eternal  now,  always  in  your  mind." 

"Now  is  all  the  time  I  have  anything  to  do  with,"  said 
Miss  Ophelia. 

"Dear  little  Eva, —poor  child!"  said  St.  Clare,  "she 
had  set  her  little  simple  soul  on  a  good  work  for  me." 

It  was  the  first  time  since  Eva's  death  that  he  had  ever 
said  as  many  words  as  these  of  her,  and  he  spoke  now 
evidently  repressing  very  strong  feeling. 

"My  view  of  Christianity  is  such,"  he  added,  "that  I 
think  no  man  can  consistently  profess  it  without  throwing 
the  whole  weight  of  his  being  against  this  monstrous 
system  of  injustice  that  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  our 
society;  and,  if  need  be,  sacrificing  himself  in  the  battle. 
That  is,  I  mean  that  /  could  not  be  a  Christian  otherwise, 
though  I  have  certainly  had  intercourse  with  a  great  many 
enlightened  and  Christian  people  who  did  no  such  thing; 
and  I  confess  that  the  apathy  of  religious  people  on  this 
subject,  their  want  of  perception  of  wrongs  that  filled  me 
with  horror,  have  engendered  in  me  more  skepticism  than 
any  other  thing." 

"If  you  knew  all  this,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  "why  did  n't 
you  do  it  1 " 

"Oh,  because  I  have  had  only  that  kind  of  benevolence 
which  consists  in  lying  on  a  sofa,  and  cursing  the  church, 
and  clergy  for  not  being  martyrs  and  confessors.      One  can 
see,  you  know,  very  easily,  how  others  ought  to  be  mar 
tyrs." 

"Well,  are  you  going  to  do  differently  now? "  said  Miss 
Ophelia. 

"God  only  knows  the  future,"  said  St.  Clare.  "I  am 
braver  than  I  was,  because  I  have  lost  all;  and  he  who  has 
nothing  to  lose  can  afford  all  risks." 


76  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do? " 

"My  duty,  I  hope,  to  the  poor  and  lowly,  as  fast  as  I 
find  it  out,"  said  St.  Clare,  "beginning  with  my  own  ser 
vants,  for  whom  I  have  yet  done  nothing,  and,  perhaps,  at 
some  future  day,  it  may  appear  that  I  can  do  something  for 
a  whole  class;  something  to  save  my  country  from  the  dis 
grace  of  that  false  position  in  which  she  now  stands  before 
all  civilized  nations." 

"Do  you  suppose  it  possible  that  a  nation  ever  will 
voluntarily  emancipate  1  "  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  St.  Clare.  "This  is  a  day  of 
great  deeds.  Heroism  and  disinterestedness  are  rising  up, 
here  and  there,  in  the  earth.  The  Hungarian  nobles  set 
free  millions  of  serfs,  at  an  immense  pecuniary  loss;  and, 
perhaps,  among  us  may  be  found  generous  spirits,  who  do 
not  estimate  honor  and  justice  by  dollars  and  cents." 

"I  hardly  think  so,"  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"But,  suppose  we  should  rise  up  to-morrow  and  emanci 
pate,  who  would  educate  these  millions,  and  teach  them 
how  to  use  their  freedom  ?  They  never  would  rise  to  do 
much  among  us.  The  fact  is,  we  are  too  lazy  and  unprac 
tical,  ourselves,  ever  to  give  them  much  of  an  idea  of  that 
industry  and  energy  which  is  necessary  to  form  them  into 
men.  They  will  have  to  go  north,  where  labor  is  the  fash 
ion,  —  the  universal  custom ;  and  tell  me,  now,  is  there 
enough  Christian  philanthropy,  among  your  Northern 
States,  to  bear  with  the  process  of  their  education  and  ele 
vation?  You  send  thousands  of  dollars  to  foreign  mis 
sions;  but  could  you  endure  to  have  the  heathen  sent  into 
your  towns  and  villages,  and  give  your  time,  and  thoughts, 
and  money,  to  raise  them  to  the  Christian  standard? 
That 's  what  I  want  to  know.  If  we  emancipate,  are  you 
willing  to  educate?  How  many  families,  in  your  town, 
would  take  in  a  negro  man  and  woman,  teach  them,  bear 
with  them,  and  seek  to  make  them  Christians?  How  many 


LIFE   AMONG  THE  LOWLY  77 

merchants  would  take  Adolph,  if  I  wanted  to  make  him  a 
clerk ;  or  mechanics,  if  I  wanted  him  taught  a  trade  1  If 
I  wanted  to  put  Jane  and  Rosa  to  a  school,  how  many 
schools  are  there  in  the  Northern  States  that  would  take 
them  in  ?  how  many  families  that  would  board  them  ?  and 
yet  they  are  as  white  as  many  a  woman,  north  or  south. 
You  see,  cousin,  I  want  justice  done  us.  We  are  in  a  bad 
position.  We  are  the  more  obvious  oppressors  of  the  negro ; 
but  the  unchristian  prejudice  of  the  north  is  an  oppressor 
almost  equally  severe." 

"Well,  cousin,  I  know  it  is  so,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  — 
"I  know  it  was  so  with  me,  till  I  saw  that  it  was  my  duty 
to  overcome  it ;  but  I  trust  I  have  overcome  it ;  and  I  know 
there  are  many  good  people  at  the  north,  who  in  this  mat 
ter  need  only  to  be  taught  what  their  duty  is,  to  do  it. 
It  would  certainly  be  a  greater  self-denial  to  receive  hea 
then  among  us,  than  to  send  missionaries  to  them ;  but  I 
think  we  would  do  it." 

"  You  would,  I  know,'-'  said  St.  Clare.  "I  'd  like  to  see 
anything  you  wouldn't  do,  if  you  thought  it  your  duty!  " 

"Well,  I  'in  not  uncommonly  good,"  said  Miss  Ophelia. 
"Others  would,  if  they  saw  things  as  I  do.  I  intend  to 
take  Topsy  home,  when  I  go.  I  suppose  our  folks  will 
wonder,  at  first;  but  I  think  they  will  be  brought  to  see 
as  I  do.  Besides,  I  know  there  are  many  people  at  the 
north  who  do  exactly  what  you  said." 

"Yes,  but  they  are  a  minority;  and,  if  we  should  begin 
to  emancipate  to  any  extent,  we  should  soon  hear  from 
you. " 

Miss  Ophelia  did  not  reply.  There  was  a  pause  of  some 
moments;  and  St.  Clare's  countenance  was  overcast  by  a 
sad,  dreamy  expression. 

"I  don't  know  what  makes  me  think  of  my  mother  so 
much,  to-night,"  he  said.  "I  have  a  strange  kind  of  feel 
ing,  as  if  she  were  near  me.  I  keep  thinking  of  things  she 


78  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;    OR 

used  to  say.  Strange,  what  brings  these  past  things  so 
vividly  back  to  us,  sometimes !  " 

St.  Clare  walked  up  and  down  the  room  for  some  min 
utes  more,  and  then  said,  — 

"I  believe  I  '11  go  down  street,  a  few  moments  and  hear 
the  news,  to-night." 

He  took  his  hat,  and  passed  out. 

Tom  followed  him  to  the  passage,  out  of  the  court,  and 
asked  if  he  should  attend  him. 

"No,  my  boy,"  said  St.  Clare.  "I  shall  be  back  in  an 
hour." 

Tom  sat  down  in  the  veranda.  It  was  a  beautiful  moon 
light  evening,  and  he  sat  watching  the  rising  and  falling 
spray  of  the  fountain,  and  listening  to  its  murmur.  Tom 
thought  of  his  home,  and  that  he  should  soon  be  a  free 
man,  and  able  to  return  to  it  at  will.  He  thought  how  ho, 
should  work  to  buy  his  wife  and  boys.  He  felt  the  mus 
cles  of  his  brawny  arms  with  a  sort  of  joy,  as  he  thought 
they  would  soon  belong  to  himself,  and  how  much  they 
could  do  to  work  out  the  freedom  of  his  family.  Then  he 
thought  of  his  noble  young  master,  and,  ever  second  to 
that,  came  the  habitual  prayer  that  he  had  always  offered 
for  him;  and  then  his  thoughts  passed  on  to  the  beautiful 
Eva,  whom  he  now  thought  of  among  the  angels;  and  he 
thought  till  he  almost  fancied  that  that  bright  face  and 
golden  hair  were  looking  upon  him,  out  of  the  spray  of  the 
fountain.  And,  so  musing,  he  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  he 
saw  her  coming  bounding  towards  him,  just  as  she  used  to 
come,  with  a  wreath  of  jessamine  in  her  hair,  her  cheeks 
bright,  and  her  eyes  radiant  with  delight;  but,  as  he 
looked,  she  seemed  to  rise  from  the  ground;  her  cheeks 
wore  a  paler  hue,  —  her  eyes  had  a  deep,  divine  radiance,  a 
golden  halo  seemed  around  her  head,  —  and  she  vanished 
from  his  sight;  and  Tom  was  awakened  by  a  loud  knock 
ing,  and  a  sound  of  many  voices  at  the  gate. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE  LOWLY  79 

He  hastened  to  undo  it;  and,  with  smothered  voices 
and  heavy  tread,  came  several  men,  bringing  a  body, 
wrapped  in  a  cloak,  and  lying  on  a  shutter.  The  light  of 
the  lamp  fell  full  on  the  face ;  and  Tom  gave  a  wild  cry 
of  amazement  and  despair  that  rang  through  all  the  gal 
leries,  as  the  men  advanced,  with  their  burden,  to  the 
open  parlor  door,  where  Miss  Ophelia  still  sat  knitting. 

St.  Clare  had  turned  into  a  cafe,  to  look  over  an  evening 
paper.  As  he  was  reading,  an  affray  arose  between  two 
gentlemen  in  the  room,  who  were  both  partially  intoxi 
cated.  St.  Clare  and  one  or  two  others  made  an  effort  to 
separate  them,  and  St.  Clare  received  a  fatal  stab  in  the 
side  with  a  bowie-knife,  which  he  was  attempting  to  wrest 
from  one  of  them. 

The  house  was  full  of  cries  and  lamentations,  shrieks  and 
screams;  servants  frantically  tearing  their  hair,  throwing 
themselves  on  the  ground,  or  running  distractedly  about 
lamenting.  Tom  and  Miss  Ophelia  alone  seemed  to  have 
any  presence  of  mind;  for  Marie  was  in  strong  hysteric 
convulsions.  At  Miss  Ophelia's  direction,  one  of  the 
lounges  in  the  parlor  was  hastily  prepared,  and  the  bleed 
ing  form  laid  upon  it.  St.  Clare  had  fainted,  through 
pain  and  loss  of  blood ;  but,  as  Miss  Ophelia  applied  restor 
atives,  he  revived,  opened  his  eyes,  looked  fixedly  on 
them,  looked  earnestly  around  the  room,  his  eyes  traveling 
wistfully  over  every  object,  and  finally  they  rested  on  his 
mother's  picture. 

The  physician  now  arrived,  and  made  his  examination. 
It  was  evident,  from  the  expression  of  his  face,  that  there 
was  no  hope;  but  he  applied  himself  to  dressing  the 
wound,  and  he  and  Miss  Ophelia  and  Tom.  proceeded  com 
posedly  with  this  work,  amid  the  lamentations  and  sobs  and 
cries  of  the  affrighted  servants,  who  had  clustered  about 
the  doors  and  windows  of  the  veranda. 

"Now,"  said  the  physician,^" we  must  turn  all  these 
creatures  out;  all  depends  on  his  being  kept  quiet." 


80  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

St.  Clare  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked  fixedly  on  the 
distressed  beings,  whom  Miss  Ophelia  and  the  doctor  were 
trying  to  urge  from  the  apartment.  "  Poor  creatures !  " 
he  said,  and  an  expression  of  bitter  self-reproach  passed 
over  his  face.  Adolph  absolutely  refused  to  go.  Terror 
had  deprived  him  of  all  presence  of  mind;  he  threw  him 
self  along  on  the  floor,  and  nothing  could  persuade  him  to 
rise.  The  rest  yielded  to  Miss  Ophelia's  urgent  represen 
tations,  that  their  master's  safety  depended  on  their  still 
ness  and  obedience. 

St.  Clare  could  say  but  little ;  he  lay  with  his  eyes  shut, 
but  it  was  evident  that  he  wrestled  with  bitter  thoughts. 
After  a  while,  he  laid  his  hand  on  Tom's,  who  was  kneel 
ing  beside  him,  and  said,  "  Tom  !  poor  fellow !  " 

"What,  Mas'r?"  said  Tom  earnestly. 

"  I  am  dying ! "  said  St.  Clare,  pressing  his  hand ; 
"pray!" 

"  If  you  would  like  a  clergyman  "  —  said  the  physician. 

St.  Clare  hastily  shook  his  head,  and  said  again  to  Tom, 
more  earnestly,  "Pray!" 

And  Tom  did  pray,  with  all  his  mind  and  strength,  for 
the  soul  that  was  passing,  —  the  soul  that  seemed  looking 
so  steadily  and  mournfully  from  those  large,  melancholy 
blue  eyes.  It  was  literally  prayer  offered  with  strong  cry 
ing  and  tears. 

When  Tom  ceased  to  speak,  St.  Clare  reached  out  and 
took  his  hand,  looking  earnestly  at  him,  but  saying  nothing. 
He  closed  his  eyes,  but  still  retained  his  hold;  for,  in  the 
gates  of  eternity,  the  black  hand  and  the  white  hold  each 
other  with  an  equal  clasp.  He  murmured  softly  to  him 
self,  at  broken  intervals,  — 

"  Recordare  Jesu  pie  — 

Ne  me  perdas  —  ilia  die 
Quserens  me  —  sedisti  lassus." 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  81 

It  was  evident  that  the  words  he  had  been  singing  that 
evening  were  passing  through  his  mind,  —  words  of  en 
treaty  addressed  to  Infinite  Pity.  His  lips  moved  at  inter 
vals,  as  parts  of  the  hymn  fell  brokenly  from  them. 

"His  mind  is  wandering,"  said  the  doctor. 

"No!  it  is  coining  HOME,  at  last!"  said  St.  Clare  ener 
getically;  "at  last!  at  last!" 

The  effort  of  speaking  exhausted  him.  The  sinking  pale 
ness  of  death  fell  on  him;  but  with  it  there  fell,  as  if  shed 
from  the  wings  of  some  pitying  spirit,  a  beautiful  expression 
of  peace,  like  that  of  a  wearied  child  who  sleeps. 

So  he  lay  for  a  few  moments.  They  saw  that  the  mighty 
hand  was  on  him.  Just  before  the  spirit  parted,  he  opened 
his  eyes,  with  a  sudden  light,  as  of  joy  and  recognition, 
and  said  "Mother  !  "  and  then  he  was  gone! 

VOL.  II. 


82  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE    UNPROTECTED 

WE  hear  often  of  the  distress  of  the  negro  servants  on 
the  loss  of  a  kind  master;  and  with  good  reason,  for  no 
creature  on  God's  earth  is  left  more  utterly  unprotected 
and  desolate  than  the  slave  in  these  circumstances. 

The  child  who  has  lost  a  father  has  still  the  protection 
of  friends,  and  of  the  law ;  he  is  something,  and  can  do 
something,  — has  acknowledged  rights  and  position;  the 
slave  has  none.  The  law  regards  him,  in  every  respect,  as 
devoid  of  rights  as  a  bale  of  merchandise.  The  only  pos 
sible  acknowledgment  of  any  of  the  longings  and  wants  of 
a  human  and  immortal  creature,  which  are  given  to  him, 
comes  to  him  through  the  sovereign  and  irresponsible  will 
of  his  master;  and  when  that  master  is  stricken  down, 
nothing  remains. 

The  number  of  those  men  who  know  how  to  use  wholly 
irresponsible  power  humanely  and  generously  is  small. 
Everybody  knows  this,  and  the  slave  knows  it  best  of  all; 
so  that  he  feels  that  there  are  ten  chances  of  his  finding  an 
abusive  and  tyrannical  master,  to  one  of  his  finding  a  con 
siderate  and  kind  one.  Therefore  is  it  that  the  wail  over 
a  kind  master  is  loud  and  long,  as  well  it  may  be. 

When  St.  Clare  breathed  his  last,  terror  and  consterna 
tion  took  hold  of  all  his  household.  He  had  been  stricken 
down  so  in  a  moment,  in  the  flower  and  strength  of  his 
youth!  Every  room  and  gallery  of  the  house  resounded 
with  sobs  and  shrieks  of  despair. 

Marie,  whose  nervous  system  had  been  enervated  by  a 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  83 

constant  course  of  self-indulgence,  had  nothing  to  support 
the  terror  of  the  shock,  and,  at  the  time  her  husband 
breathed  his  last,  was  passing  from  one  fainting  fit  to 
another:  and  he  to  whom  she  had  been  joined  in  the  myste 
rious  tie  of  marriage  passed  from  her  forever,  without  the 
possibility  of  even  a  parting  word. 

Miss  Ophelia,  with  characteristic  strength  and  self-con 
trol,  had  remained  with  her  kinsman  to  the  last,  —  all  eye, 
all  ear,  all  attention;  doing  everything  of  the  little  that 
could  be  done,  and  joining  with  her  whole  soul  in  the  ten 
der  and  impassioned  prayers  which  the  poor  slave  had 
poured  forth  for  the  soul  of  his  dying  master. 

When  they  were  arranging  him  for  his  last  rest,  they 
found  upon  his  bosom  a  small,  plain  miniature- case,  open 
ing  with  a  spring.  It  was  the  miniature  of  a  noble  and 
beautiful  female  face;  and  on  the  reverse,  under  a  crystal, 
a  lock  of  dark  hair.  They  laid  them  back  on  the  lifeless 
breast,  —  dust  to  dust,  —  poor  mournful  relics  of  early 
dreams,  which  once  made  that  cold  heart  beat  so  warmly ! 

Tom's  whole  soul  was  filled  with  thoughts  of  eternity; 
and  while  he  ministered  around  the  lifeless  clay,  he  did 
not  once  think  that  the  sudden  stroke  had  left  him  in  hope 
less  slavery.  He  felt  at  peace  about  his  master;  for  in 
that  hour,  when  he  had  poured  forth  his  prayer  into  the 
bosom  of  his  Father,  he  had  found  an  answer  of  quietness 
and  assurance  springing  up  within  himself.  In  the  depths 
of  his  own  affectionate  nature,  he  felt  able  to  perceive 
something  of  the  fullness  of  Divine  love ;  for  an  old  oracle 
hath  thus  written,  —  "  He  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth 
in  God,  and  God  in  him."  Tom  hoped  and  trusted,  and 
was  at  peace. 

But  the  funeral  passed,  with  all  its  pageant  of  black 
crape,  and  prayers,  and  solemn  faces;  and  back  rolled  the 
cool,  muddy  waves  of  every-day  life;  and  up  came  the 
everlasting  hard  inquiry  of  "What  is  to  be  done  next? " 


84  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 

It  rose  to  the  mind  of  Marie,  as,  dressed  in  loose  morn 
ing-robes,  and  surrounded  by  anxious  servants,  she  sat  up 
in  a  great  easy-chair,  and  inspected  samples  of  crape  and 
bombazine.  It  rose  to  Miss  Ophelia,  who  began  to  turn 
her  thoughts  towards  her  northern  home.  It  rose,  in 
silent  terrors,  to  the  minds  of  the  servants,  who  well  knew 
the  unfeeling,  tyrannical  character  of  the  mistress  in  whose 
hands  they  were  left.  All  knew,  very  well,  that  the  in 
dulgences  which  had  been  accorded  to  them  were  not  from 
their  mistress,  but  from  their  master;  and  that,  now  he 
was  gone,  there  would  be  no  screen  between  them  and 
every  tyrannous  infliction  which  a  temper  soured  by  afflic 
tion  might  devise. 

It  was  about  a  fortnight  after  the  funeral,  that  Miss 
Ophelia,  busied  one  day  in  her  apartment,  heard  a  gentle 
tap  at  the  door.  She  opened  it,  and  there  stood  Kosa, 
the  pretty  young  quadroon,  whom  we  have  before  often 
noticed,  her  hair  in  disorder,  and  her  eyes  swelled  with 
crying. 

"Oh,  Miss  Feely,"  she  said,  falling  on  her  knees,  and 
catching  the  skirt  of  her  dress,  "do,  do  go  to  Miss  Marie 
for  me!  do  plead  for  me!  She  's  goin'  to  send  me  out  to 
be  whipped,  —  look  there ! "  And  she  handed  to  Miss 
Ophelia  a  paper. 

It  was  an  order,  written  in  Marie's  delicate  Italian  hand, 
to  the  master  of  a  whipping  establishment,  to  give  the 
bearer  fifteen  lashes. 

"What  have  you  been  doing? "  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"You  know,  Miss  Feely,  I've  got  such  a  bad  temper; 
it 's  very  bad  of  me.  I  was  trying  on  Miss  Marie's  dress, 
and  she  slapped  my  face ;  and  I  spoke  out  before  I  thought, 
and  was  saucy,  and  she  said  that  she  'd  bring  me  down, 
and  have  me  know,  once  for  all,  that  I  was  n't  going  to  be 
so  topping  as  I  had  been ;  and  she  wrote  this,  and  says  I 
shall  carry  it.  I  'd  rather  she  'd  kill  me,  right  out." 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  85 

Miss  Ophelia  stood  considering,  with  the  paper  in  her 
hand. 

"You  see,  Miss  Feely,"  said  Rosa,  "I  don't  mind  the 
whipping  so  much,  if  Miss  Marie  or  you  was  to  do  it;  but, 
to  be  sent  to  a  man  !  and  such  a  horrid  man,  —  the  shame 
of  it,  Miss  Feely !  " 

Miss  Ophelia  well  knew  that  it  was  the  universal  custom 
to  send  women  and  young  girls  to  whipping-houses,  to  the 
hands  of  the  lowest  of  men,  —  men  vile  enough  to  make 
this  their  profession,  — there  to  be  subjected  to  brutal  ex 
posure  and  shameful  correction.  She  had  known  it  before; 
but  hitherto  she  had  never  realized  it,  till  she  saw  the 
slender  form  of  Rosa  almost  convulsed  with  distress.  All 
the  honest  blood  of  womanhood,  the  strong  New  England 
blood  of  liberty,  flushed  to  her  cheeks,  and  throbbed  bit 
terly  in  her  indignant  heart;  but,  with  habitual  prudence 
and  self-control,  she  mastered  herself,  and,  crushing  the 
paper  firmly  in  her  hand,  she  merely  said  to  Rosa,  — 

"Sit  down,  child,  while  I  go  to  your  mistress." 

"  Shameful !  monstrous !  outrageous !  "  she  said  to  her 
self,  as  she  was  crossing  the  parlor. 

She  found  Marie  sitting  up  in  her  easy-chair,  with 
Mammy  standing  by  her,  combing  her  hair;  Jane  sat  on 
the  ground  before  her,  busy  in  chafing  her  feet. 

"  How  do  you  find  yourself,  to-day  1  "  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"A  deep  sigh,  and  a  closing  of  the  eyes,  was  the  only 
reply,  for  a  moment;  and  then  Marie  answered:  "Oh,  I 
don't  know,  cousin;  I  suppose  I  'm  as  well  as  I  ever  shall 
be !  "  and  Marie  wiped  her  eyes  with  a  cambric  handker 
chief,  bordered  with  an  inch  deep  of  black. 

"I  came,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  with  a  short,  dry  cough, 
such  as  commonly  introduces  a  difficult  subject,  — "I 
came  to  speak  with  you  about  poor  Rosa." 

Marie's  eyes  were  open  wide  enough  now,  and  a  flush 
rose  to  her  sallow  cheeks,  as  she  answered  sharply,  — 


86  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"Well,  what  about  her?" 

"She  is  very  sorry  for  her  fault." 

"She  is,  is  she?  She'll  be  sorrier,  before  I've  done 
with  her!  I've  endured  that  child's  impudence  long 
enough;  and  now  I  '11  bring  her  down,  —  I  '11  make  her  lie 
in  the  dust !  " 

"  But  could  not  you  punish  her  some  other  way,  —  some 
way  that  would  be  less  shameful  ? " 

"I  mean  to  shame  her;  that 's  just  what  I  want.  She 
has  all  her  life  presumed  on  her  delicacy,  and  her  good 
looks,  and  her  lady-like  airs,  till  she  forgets  who  she  is ;  — 
and  I  '11  give  her  one  lesson  that  will  bring  her  down,  I 
fancy !  " 

"But,  cousin,  consider  that,  if  you  destroy  delicacy  and 
a  sense  of  shame  in  a  young  girl,  you  deprave  her  very 
fast." 

"Delicacy!"  said  Marie,  with  a  scornful  laugh, — "a 
fine  word  for  such  as  she!  I'll  teach  her,  with  all  her 
airs,  that  she  's  no  better  than  the  raggedest  black  wench 
that  walks  the  streets!  She'll  take  no  more  airs  with 
me!" 

"  You  will  answer  to  God  for  such  cruelty !  "  said  Miss 
Ophelia,  with  energy. 

"Cruelty, — I'd  like  to  know  what  the  cruelty  is!  I 
wrote  orders  for  only  fifteen  lashes,  and  told  him  to  put 
them  on  lightly.  I  'm  sure,  there  's  no  cruelty  there!  " 

"No  cruelty!  "  said  Miss  Ophelia.  "I  'm  sure  any  girl 
might  rather  be  killed  outright !  " 

"It  might  seem  so  to  anybody  with  your  feeling;  but 
all  these  creatures  get  used  to  it;  it 's  the  only  way  they 
can  be  kept  in  order.  Once  let  them  feel  that  they  are  to 
take  any  airs  about  delicacy,  and  all  that,  and  they  '11  run 
all  over  you,  just  as  my  servants  always  have.  I  've  be 
gun  now  to  bring  them  under;  and  I'll  have  them  all  to 
know  that  I  '11  send  one  out  to  be  whipped  as  soon  as  an- 


LIFE  AMONG  THE   LOWLY  87 

other,  if  they  don't  mind  themselves!"  said  Marie,  look 
ing  around  her  decidedly. 

Jane  hung  her  head  and  cowered  at  this,  for  she  felt  as 
if  it  was  particularly  directed  to  her.  Miss  Ophelia  sat 
for  a  moment,  as  if  she  had  swallowed  some  explosive  mix 
ture,  and  were  ready  to  burst.  Then,  recollecting  the  utter 
uselessness  of  contention  with  such  a  nature,  she  shut  her 
lips  resolutely,  gathered  herself  up,  and  walked  out  of  the 
room. 

It  was  hard  to  go  back  and  tell  Rosa  that  she  could  do 
nothing  for  her;  and,  shortly  after,  one  of  the  man-ser 
vants  came  to  say  that  her  mistress  had  ordered  him  to 
take  Rosa  with  him  to  the  whipping-house,  whither  she 
was  hurried,  in  spite  of  her  tears  and  entreaties. 

A  few  days  after,  Tom  was  standing  musing  by  the  bal 
conies,  when  he  was  joined  by  Adolph,  who,  since  the  death 
of  his  master,  had  been  entirely  crestfallen  and  disconso 
late.  Adolph  knew  that  he  had  always  been  an  object  of 
dislike  to  Marie;  but  while  his  master  lived  he  had  paid 
but  little  attention  to  it.  Now  that  he  was  gone,  he  had 
moved  about  in  daily  dread  and  trembling,  not  knowing 
what  might  befall  him  next.  Marie  had  held  several  con 
sultations  with  her  lawyer;  after  communicating  with  St. 
Clare's  brother,  it  was  determined  to  sell  the  place,  and  all 
the  servants,  except  her  own  personal  property,  and  these 
she  intended  to  take  with  her,  and  go  back  to  her  father's 
plantation. 

"Do  ye  know,  Tom,  that  we've  all  got  to  be  sold?" 
said  Adolph. 

"  How  did  you  hear  that  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  I  hid  myself  behind  the  curtains  when  Missis  was  talk 
ing  with  the  lawyer.  In  a  few  days  we  shall  all  be  sent 
off  to  auction,  Tom. " 

"The  Lord's  will  be  done! "  said  Tom,  folding  his  arms 
and  sighing  heavily. 


88  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  on 

"We  '11  never  get  another  such  a  master,"  said  Adolph 
apprehensively;  "but  I'd  rather  be  sold  than  take  my 
chance  under  Missis." 

Tom  turned  away;  his  heart  was  full.  The  hope  of 
liberty,  the  thought  of  distant  wife  and  children,  rose  up 
before  his  patient  soul,  as  to  the  mariner  shipwrecked  al 
most  in  port  rises  the  vision  of  the  church-spire  and  loving 
roofs  of  his  native  village,  seen  over  the  top  of  some  black 
wave  only  for  one  last  farewell.  He  drew  his  arms  tightly 
over  his  bosom,  and  choked  back  the  bitter  tears,  and  tried 
to  pray.  The  poor  old  soul  had  such  a  singular,  unac 
countable  prejudice  in  favor  of  liberty,  that  it  was  a  hard 
wrench  for  him;  and  the  more  he  said,  "Thy  will  be 
done,"  the  worse  he  felt. 

He  sought  Miss  Ophelia,  who,  ever  since  Eva's  death, 
had  treated  him  with  marked  and  respectful  kindness. 

"Miss  Feely,"  he  said,  "Mas'r  St.  Clare  promised  me 
my  freedom.  He  told  me  that  he  had  begun  to  take  it  out 
for  me;  and  now,  perhaps,  if  Miss  Feely  would  be  good 
enough  to  speak  about  it  to  Missis,  she  would  feel  like 
goin'  on  with  it,  as  it  was  Mas'r  St.  Clare's  wish." 

"I'll  speak  for  you,  Tom,  and  do  my  best,"  said  Miss 
Ophelia;  "but,  if  it  depends  on  Mrs.  St.  Clare,  I  can't 
hope  much  for  you ;  —  nevertheless,  I  will  try. " 

This  incident  occurred  a  few  days  after  that  of  Rosa, 
while  Miss  Ophelia  was  busied  in  preparations  to  return 
north. 

Seriously  reflecting  within  herself,  she  considered  that 
perhaps  she  had  shown  too  hasty  a  warmth  of  language  in 
her  former  interview  with  Marie;  and  she  resolved  that 
she  would  now  endeavor  to  moderate  her  zeal,  and  to  be  as 
conciliatory  as  possible.  So  the  good  soul  gathered  herself 
up,  and,  taking  her  knitting,  resolved  to  go  into  Marie's 
room,  be  as  agreeable  as  possible,  and  negotiate  Tom's  case 
with  all  the  diplomatic  skill  of  which  she  was  mistress. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  89 

She  found  Marie  reclining  at  length  upon  a  lounge,  sup 
porting  herself  on  one  elbow  by  pillows,  while  Jane,  who 
had  been  out  shopping,  was  displaying  before  her  certain 
samples  of  thin  black  stuffs. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Marie,  selecting  one;  "only  I'm 
not  sure  about  its  being  properly  mourning." 

"Laws,  Missis,"  said  Jane  volubly,  "Mrs.  General  Der- 
bennon  wore  just  this  very  thing,  after  the  General  died, 
last  summer ;  it  makes  up  lovely !  " 

"  What  do  you  think  1 "  said  Marie  to  Miss  Ophelia. 

"It's  a  matter  of  custom,  I  suppose,"  said  Miss  Ophe 
lia.  "You  can  judge  about  it  better  than  I." 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Marie,  "that  I  haven't  a  dress  in 
the  world  that  I  can  wear;  and,  as  I  am  going  to  break  up 
the  establishment,  and  go  off,  next  week,  I  must  decide 
upon  something." 

"Are  you  going  so  soon?" 

"Yes.  St.  Clare's  brother  has  written,  and  he  and  the 
lawyer  think  that  the  servants  and  furniture  had  better  be 
put  up  at  auction,  and  the  place  left  with  our  lawyer." 

"There  's  one  thing  I  wanted  to  speak  with  you  about," 
said  Miss  Ophelia.  "Augustine  promised  Tom  his  liberty, 
and  began  the  legal  forms  necessary  to  it.  I  hope  you  will 
use  your  influence  to  have  it  perfected." 

"Indeed,  I  shall  do  no  such  thing!"  said  Marie 
sharply.  "Tom  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  servants  on  the 
place, — it  couldn't  be  afforded,  anyway.  Besides,  what 
does  he  want  of  liberty  1  He  's  a  great  deal  better  off  as 
he  is." 

"But  he  does  desire  it,  very  earnestly,  and  his  master 
promised  it,"  said  Miss  Ophelia. 

"I  dare  say  he  does  want  it,"  said  Marie;  "they  all 
want  it,  just  because  they  are  a  discontented  set,  —  always 
wanting  what  they  have  n't  got.  Now,  I  'm  principled 
against  emancipating,  in  any  case.  Keep  a  negro  under  the 


90  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

care  of  a  master,  and  he  does  well  enough,  and  is  respect 
able;  but  set  them  free,  and  they  get  lazy,  and  won't  work, 
and  take  to  drinking,  and  go  all  down  to  be  mean,  worth 
less  fellows.  I  've  seen  it  tried,  hundreds  of  times.  It 's 
no  favor  to  set  them  free." 

"But  Tom  is  so  steady,  industrious,  and  pious." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  tell  me!  I've  seen  a  hundred  like 
him.  He  '11  do  very  well,  as  long  as  he  's  taken  care  of, 
—  that 'sail." 

"But,  then,  consider,"  said  Miss  Ophelia,  "when  you 
set  him  up  for  sale,  the  chances  of  his  getting  a  bad  mas 
ter." 

"Oh,  that's  all  humbug!"  said  Marie;  "it  isn't  one 
time  in  a  hundred  that  a  good  fellow  gets  a  bad  master; 
most  masters  are  good,  for  all  the  talk  that  is  made.  I  've 
lived  and  grown  up  here,  in  the  south,  and  I  never  yet  was 
acquainted  with  a  master  that  didn't  treat  his  servants 
well,  —  quite  as  well  as  is  worth  while.  I  don't  feel  any 
fears  on  that  head." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Ophelia  energetically,  "I  know  it 
was  one  of  the  last  wishes  of  your  husband  that  Tom  should 
have  his  liberty ;  it  was  one  of  the  promises  that  he  made 
to  dear  little  Eva  on  her  death-bed,  and  I  should  not  think 
you  would  feel  at  liberty  to  disregard  it." 

Marie  had  her  face  covered  with  her  handkerchief  at  this 
appeal,  and  began  sobbing  and  using  her  smelling-bottle, 
with  great  vehemence. 

" Everybody  goes  against  me !"  she  said.  "Everybody 
is  so  inconsiderate !  I  shouldn't  have  expected  that  you 
would  bring  up  all  these  remembrances  of  my  troubles  to 
me, — it's  so  inconsiderate!  But  nobody  ever  does  con 
sider,  —  my  trials  are  so  peculiar!  It 's  so  hard,  that  when 
I  had  only  one  daughter,  she  should  have  been  taken !  — 
and  when  I  had  a  husband  that  just  exactly  suited  me,  — 
and  I  'm  so  hard  to  be  suited!  —  he  should  be  taken!  And 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  91 

you  seem  to  have  so  little  feeling  for  me,  and  keep  bring 
ing  it  up  to  me  so  carelessly,  —  when  you  know  how  it 
overcomes  me !  I  suppose  you  mean  well ;  but  it  is  very 
inconsiderate,  —  very !  "  And  Marie  sobbed,  and  gasped 
for  breath,  and  called  Mammy  to  open  the  window,  and  to 
bring  her  the  camphor-bottle,  and  to  bathe  her  head,  and 
unhook  her  dress.  And,  in  the  general  confusion  that 
ensued,  Miss  Ophelia  made  her  escape  to  her  apartment. 

She  saw,  at  once,  that  it  would  do  no  good  to  say  any 
thing  more ;  for  Marie  had  an  indefinite  capacity  for  hys 
teric  fits;  and,  after  this,  whenever  her  husband's  or 
Eva's  wishes  with  regard  to  the  servants  were  alluded  to, 
she  always  found  it  convenient  to  set  one  in  operation. 
Miss  Ophelia,  therefore,  did  the  next  best  thing  she  could 
for  Tom,  —  she  wrote  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Shelby  for  him,  stat 
ing  his  troubles,  and  urging  them  to  send  to  his  relief. 

The  next  day,  Tom  and  Adolph,  and  some  half  a  dozen 
other  servants,  were  marched  down  to  a  slave  warehouse, 
to  await  the  convenience  of  the  trader,  who  was  going  to 
make  up  a  lot  for  auction. 


92  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 


CHAPTER   XXX 

THE    SLAVE    WAREHOUSE 

A  SLAVE  warehouse!  Perhaps  some  of  my  readers 
conjure  up  horrible  visions  of  such  a  place.  They  fancy 
some  foul,  obscure  den,  some  horrible  Tartarus  "  in  for  mis, 
ingens,  cui  lumen  ademptum."  But  no,  innocent  friend; 
in  these  days  men  have  learned  the  art  of  sinning  ex 
pertly  and  genteelly,  so  as  not  to  shock  the  eyes  and 
senses  of  respectable  society.  Human  property  is  high  in 
the  market;  and  is,  therefore,  well  fed,  well  cleaned, 
tended,  and  looked  after,  that  it  may  come  to  sale  sleek, 
and  strong,  and  shining.  A  slave  warehouse  in  New  Or 
leans  is  a  house  externally  not  much  unlike  many  others, 
kept  with  neatness;  and  where  every  day  you  may  see 
arranged,  under  a  sort  of  shed  along  the  outside,  rows  of 
men  and  women,  who  stand  there  as  a  sign  of  the  property 
sold  within. 

Then  you  shall  be  courteously  entreated  to  call  and 
examine,  and  shall  find  an  abundance  of  husbands,  wives, 
brothers,  sisters,  fathers,  mothers,  and  young  children,  to 
be  "sold  separately,  or  in  lots,  to  suit  the  convenience  of 
the  purchaser ; "  and  that  soul  immortal,  once  bought  with 
blood  and  anguish  by  the  Son  of  God,  when  the  earth 
shook,  and  the  rocks  were  rent,  and  the  graves  were  opened, 
can  be  sold,  leased,  mortgaged,  exchanged  for  groceries  or 
dry  goods,  to  suit  the  phases  of  trade,  or  the  fancy  of  the 
purchaser. 

It  was  a  day  or  two  after  the  conversation  between 
Marie  and  Miss  Ophelia,  that  Tom,  Adolph,  and  about 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  93 

half  a  dozen  others  of  the  St.    Clare  estate,  were  turned 
over  to  the  loving  kindness  of  Mr.  Skeggs,  the  keeper  of  a 

depot  on street,  to  await  the  auction  next  day. 

Tom  had  with  him  quite  a  sizable  trunk  full  of  clothing, 
as  had  most  others  of  them.  They  were  ushered,  for  the 
night,  into  a  long  room,  where  many  other  men,  of  all 
ages,  sizes,  and  shades  of  complexion,  were  assembled,  and 
from  which  roars  of  laughter  and  unthinking  merriment 
were  proceeding. 

"Ah,  ha!  that's  right.  Go  it,  boys, —go  it!"  said 
Mr.  Skeggs,  the  keeper.  "My  people  are  always  so 
merry!  Sambo,  I  see!"  he  said,  speaking  approvingly  to 
a  burly  negro  who  was  performing  tricks  of  low  buffoon 
ery,  which  occasioned  the  shouts  which  Tom  had  heard. 

As  might  be  imagined,  Tom  was  in  no  humor  to  join 
these  proceedings;  and,  therefore,  setting  his  trunk  as  far 
as  possible  from  the  noisy  group,  he  sat  down  on  it,  and 
leaned  his  face  against  the  wall. 

The  dealers  in  the  human  article  make  scrupulous  and 
systematic  efforts  to  promote  noisy  mirth  among  them,  as  a 
means  of  drowning  reflection,  and  rendering  them  insensible 
to  their  condition.  The  whole  object  of  the  training  to 
which  the  negro  is  put,  from  the  time  he  is  sold  in  the 
northern  market  till  he  arrives  south,  is  systematically  di 
rected  towards  making  him  callous,  unthinking,  and  brutal. 
The  slave- dealer  collects  his  gang  in  Virginia  or  Ken 
tucky,  and  drives  them  to  some  convenient,  healthy  place, 
—  often  a  watering-place,  —  to  be  fattened.  Here  they  are 
fed  full  daily ;  and,  because  some  incline  to  pine,  a  fiddle  is 
kept  commonly  going  among  them,  and  they  are  made  to 
dance  daily ;  and  he  who  refuses  to  be  merry  —  in  whose 
soul  thoughts  of  wife,  or  child,  or  home,  are  too  strong  for 
him  to  be  gay  —  is  marked  as  sullen  and  dangerous,  and 
subjected  to  all  the  evils  which  the  ill  will  of  an  utterly 
irresponsible  and  hardened  man  can  inflict  upon  him. 


94  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

Briskness,  alertness,  and  cheerfulness  of  appearance,  espe 
cially  before  observers,  are  constantly  enforced  upon  them, 
both  by  the  hope  of  thereby  getting  a  good  master,  and 
the  fear  of  all  that  the  driver  may  bring  upon  them,  if  they 
prove  unsalable. 

"  What  dat  ar  nigger  doin'  here  1 "  said  Sambo,  coming 
up  to  Tom,  after  Mr.  Skeggs  had  left  the  room.  Sambo 
was  a  full  black,  of  great  size,  very  lively,  voluble,  and  full 
of  trick  and  grimace. 

"What  you  doin'  here?"  said  Sambo,  coming  up  to 
Tom,  and  poking  him  facetiously  in  the  side.  "Medita- 
tin',  eh?" 

"I  am  to  be  sold  at  the  auction,  to-morrow!"  said 
Tom  quietly. 

"  Sold  at  auction,  —  haw !  haw !  boys,  ain't  this  yer  fun  ? 
I  wish 't  I  was  gwine  that  arway!  —  tell  ye,  wouldn't 
I  make  'em  laugh  ?  But  how  is  it,  —  dis  yer  whole  lot 
gwine  to-morrow  1 "  said  Sambo,  laying  his  hand  freely  on 
Adolph's  shoulder. 

"  Please  to  let  me  alone ! "  said  Adolph  fiercely,  straight 
ening  himself  up,  with  extreme  disgust. 

"Law,  now,  boys!  dis  yer  's  one  o'  yer  white  niggers,  — 
kind  o'  cream-color,  ye  know,  scented ! "  said  he,  coming 
up  to  Adolph  and  snuffing.  "0  Lor!  he'd  do  for  a  to- 
baccer-shop;  they  could  keep  him  to  scent  snuff!  Lor, 
he  'd  keep  a  whole  shop  a-gwine,  —  he  would !  " 

"I  say,  keep  off,  can't  you?"  said  Adolph  enraged. 

"Lor,  now,  how  touchy  we  is, — we  white  niggers! 
Look  at  us,  now !  "  and  Sambo  gave  a  ludicrous  imitation 
of  Adolph's  manner;  "here's  de  airs  and  graces.  We 's 
been  in  a  good  family,  I  specs." 

"Yes,"  said  Adolph;  "I  had  a  master  that  could  have 
bought  you  all  for  old  truck !  " 

"Laws,  now,  only  think,"  said  Sambo,  "the  gentlemens 
that  we  is !  " 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  95 

"I  belonged  to  the  St.  Clare  family,"  said  Adolph 
proudly. 

"Lor,  you  did!  Be  hanged  if  they  arn't  lucky  to  get 
shet  of  ye.  Spects  they  's  gwine  to  trade  ye  off  with  a  lot 
o'  cracked  teapots  and  sich  like ! "  said  Sambo,  with  a  pro 
voking  grin. 

Adolph,  enraged  at  this  taunt,  flew  furiously  at  his 
adversary,  swearing  and  striking  on  every  side  of  him. 
The  rest  laughed  and  shouted,  and  the  uproar  brought  the 
keeper  to  the  door. 

"What  now,  boys?  Order, — order!'7  he  said,  coming 
in  and  flourishing  a  large  whip. 

All  fled  in  different  directions,  except  Sambo,  who,  pre 
suming  on  the  favor  which  the  keeper  had  to  him  as  a 
licensed  wag,  stood  his  ground,  ducking  his  head  with  a 
facetious  grin,  whenever  the  master  made  a  dive  at  him. 

"Lor,  Mas'r,  't  ain't  us, — we 's  reg'lar  stiddy, — it's 
these  yer  new  hands;  they 's  real  aggravating  — kinder 
pickin'  at  us,  all  time !  " 

The  keeper,  at  this,  turned  upon  Tom  and  Adolph,  and 
distributing  a  few  kicks  and  cuffs  without  much  inquiry, 
and  leaving  general  orders  for  all  to  be  good  boys  and  go 
to  sleep,  left  the  apartment. 

While  this  scene  was  going  on  in  the  men's  sleeping- 
room,  the  reader  may  be  curious  to  take  a  peep  at  the 
corresponding  apartment  allotted  to  the  women.  Stretched 
out  in  various  attitudes  over  the  floor,  he  may  see  number 
less  sleeping  forms  of  every  shade  of  complexion,  from  the 
purest  ebony  to  white,  and  of  all  years,  from  childhood  to 
old  age,  lying  now  asleep.  Here  is  a  fine  bright  girl,  of 
ten  years,  whose  mother  was  sold  out  yesterday,  and  who 
to-night  cried  herself  to  sleep  when  nobody  was  looking  at 
her.  Here,  a  worn  old  negress,  whose  thin  arms  and  cal 
lous  fingers  tell  of  hard  toil,  waiting  to  be  sold  to-morrow, 
as  a  cast-off  article,  for  what  can  be  got  for  her;  and  some 


96  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

forty  or  fifty  others,  with  heads  variously  enveloped  in 
blankets  or  articles  of  clothing,  lie  stretched  around  them. 
But,  in  a  corner,  sitting  apart  from  the  rest,  are  two 
females  of  a  more  interesting  appearance  than  common. 
One  of  these  is  a  respectably  dressed  mulatto  woman 
between  forty  and  fifty,  with  soft  eyes  and  a  gentle  and 
pleasing  physiognomy.  She  has  on  her  head  a  high-raised 
turban,  made  of  a  gay  red  Madras  handkerchief,  of  the  first 
quality,  and  her  dress  is  neatly  fitted,  and  of  good  material, 
showing  that  she  has  been  provided  for  with  a  careful 
hand.  By  her  side,  and  nestling  closely  to  her,  is  a  young 
girl  of  fifteen,  — her  daughter.  She  is  a  quadroon,  as 
may  be  seen  from  her  fairer  complexion,  though  her  like 
ness  to  her  mother  is  quite  discernible.  She  has  the  same 
soft,  dark  eye,  with  longer  lashes,  and  her  curling  hair  is 
of  a  luxuriant  brown.  She  also  is  dressed  with  great 
neatness,  and  her  white,  delicate  hands  betray  very  little 
acquaintance  with  servile  toil.  These  two  are  to  be  sold 
to-morrow,  in  the  same  lot  with  the  St.  Clare  servants; 
and  the  gentleman  to  whom  they  belong,  and  to  whom  the 
money  for  their  sale  is  to  be  transmitted,  is  a  member  of  a 
Christian  church  in  New  York,  who  will  receive  the 
money,  and  go  thereafter  to  the  sacrament  of  his  Lord  and 
theirs,  and  think  no  more  of  it. 

These  two,  whom  we  shall  call  Susan  and  Emmeline, 
had  been  the  personal  attendants  of  an  amiable  and  pious 
lady  of  New  Orleans,  by  whom  they  had  been  carefully 
and  piously  instructed  and  trained.  They  had  been  taught 
to  read  and  write,  diligently  instructed  in  the  truths  of 
religion,  and  their  lot  had  been  as  happy  an  one  as  in 
their  condition  it  was  possible  to  be.  But  the  only  son  of 
their  protectress  had  the  management  of  her  property; 
and,  by  carelessness  and  extravagance,  involved  it  to  a 
large  amount,  and  at  last  failed.  One  of  the  largest  credi 
tors  was  the  respectable  firm  of  B.  &  Co.,  in  New  York. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  97 

B.  &  Co.  wrote  to  their  lawyer  in  New  Orleans,  who  at 
tached  the  real  estate  (these  two  articles  and  a  lot  of  plan 
tation  hands  formed  the  most  valuable  part  of  it),  and 
wrote  word  to  that  effect  to  New  York.  Brother  B.,  be 
ing,  as  we  have  said,  a  Christian  man,  and  a  resident  in  a 
free  state,  felt  some  uneasiness  on  the  subject.  He  did  n't 
like  trading  in  slaves  and  souls  of  men,  —  of  course,  he 
didn't;  but,  then,  there  were  thirty  thousand  dollars  in 
the  case,  and  that  was  rather  too  much  money  to  be  lost 
for  a  principle;  and  so,  after  much  considering,  and  ask 
ing  advice  from  those  that  he  knew  would  advise  to  suit 
him,  Brother  B.  wrote  to  his  lawyer  to  dispose  of  the  busi 
ness  in  the  way  that  seemed  to  him  the  most  suitable,  and 
remit  the  proceeds. 

The  day  after  the  letter  arrived  in  New  Orleans,  Susan 
and  Emmeline  were  attached,  and  sent  to  the  depot  to 
await  a  general  auction  on  the  following  morning;  and  as 
they  glimmer  faintly  upon  us  in  the  moonlight  which 
steals  through  the  grated  window,  we  may  listen  to  their 
conversation.  Both  are  weeping,  but  each  quietly,  that 
the  other  may  not  hear. 

"Mother,  just  lay  your  head  on  my  lap,  and  see  if  you 
can't  sleep  a  little,"  says  the  girl,  trying  to  appear  calm. 

"I  haven't  any  heart  to  sleep,  Em;  I  can't;  it's  the 
last  night  we  may  be  together ! " 

"Oh,  mother,  don't  say  so!  perhaps  we  shall  get  sold 
together,  —  who  knows  1 " 

"If  'twas  anybody's  else  case,  I  should  say  so,  too, 
Em,"  said  the  woman;  "but  I'm  so  'feard  of  losin'  you 
that  I  don't  see  anything  but  the  danger." 

"Why,  mother,  the  man  said  we  were  both  likely,  and 
would  sell  well." 

Susan  remembered  the  man's  looks  and  words.  With  a 
deadly  sickness  at  her  heart,  she  remembered  how  he  had 
looked  at  Emmeline' s  hands,  and  lifted  up  her  curly  hair, 

VOL.  II. 


98  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 

arid  pronounced  her  a  first-rate  article.  Susan  had  been 
trained  as  a  Christian,  brought  up  in  the  daily  reading  of 
the  Bible,  and  had  the  same  horror  of  her  child's  being 
sold  to  a  life  of  shame  that  any  other  Christian  mother 
might  have ;  but  she  had  no  hope,  —  no  protection. 

"Mother,  I  think  we  might  do  first-rate,  if  you  could 
get  a  place  as  cook,  and  I  as  chambermaid  or  seamstress, 
in  some  family.  I  dare  say  we  shall.  Let 's  both  look  as 
bright  and  lively  as  we  can,  and  tell  all  we  can  do,  and 
perhaps  we  shall,"  said  Emmeline 

"I  want  you  to  brush  your  hair  all  back  straight,  to 
morrow,"  said  Susan. 

"What  for,  mother?  I  don't  look  near  so  well,  that 
way. " 

"Yes,  but  you  '11  sell  better  so." 

"I  don't  see  why!  "  said  the  child. 

"Respectable  families  would  be  more  apt  to  buy  you, 
if  they  saw  you  looked  plain  and  decent,  as  if  you  was  n't 
trying  to  look  handsome.  I  know  their  ways  better  'n  you 
do,"  said  Susan. 

"Well,  mother,  then  I  will." 

"And,  Emmeline,  if  we  shouldn't  ever  see  each  other 
again,  after  to-morrow,  — if  I  'm  sold  way  up  on  a  planta 
tion  somewhere,  and  you  somewhere  else,  —  always  re 
member  how  you  've  been  brought  up,  and  all  Missis  has 
told  you ;  take  your  Bible  with  you,  and  your  hymn-book ; 
and  if  you  're  faithful  to  the  Lord,  he  '11  be  faithful  to 
you." 

So  speaks  the  poor  soul,  in  sore  discouragement;  for  she 
knows  that  to-morrow  any  man,  however  vile  and  brutal, 
however  godless  and  merciless,  if  he  only  has  money  to  pay 
for  her,  may  become  owner  of  her  daughter,  body  and 
soul;  and  then,  how  is  the  child  to  be  faithful?  She 
thinks  of  all  this,  as  she  holds  her  daughter  in  her  arms, 
and  wishes  that  she  were  not  handsome  and  attractive.  It 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  99 

seems  almost  an  aggravation  to  her  to  remember  how 
purely  and  piously,  how  much  above  the  ordinary  lot,  she 
has  been  brought  up.  But  she  has  no  resort  but  to  pray  ; 
and  many  such  prayers  to  God  have  gone  up  from  those 
same  trim,  neatly  arranged,  respectable  slave-prisons,  — 
prayers  which  God  has  not  forgotten,  as  a  coming  day  shall 
show;  for  it  is  written,  "Whoso  causeth  one  of  these  little 
ones  to  offend,  it  were  better  for  him  that  a  mill-stone  were 
hanged  about  his  neck,  and  that  he  were  drowned  in  the 
depths  of  the  sea." 

The  soft,  earnest,  quiet  moonbeam  looks  in  fixedly, 
marking  the  bars  of  the  grated  windows  on  the  prostrate, 
sleeping  forms.  The  mother  and  daughter  are  singing 
together  a  wild  and  melancholy  dirge,  common  as  a  funeral 
hymn  among  the  slaves :  — 

"  Oh,  where  is  weeping  Mary  ? 
Oh,  where  is  weeping  Mary  ? 

'Rived  in  the  goodly  land. 
She  is  dead  and  gone  to  heaven ; 
She  is  dead  and  gone  to  heaven; 

'Rived  in  the  goodly  land." 

These  words,  sung  by  voices  of  a  peculiar  and  melancholy 
sweetness,  in  an  air  which  seemed  like  the  sighing  of 
earthly  despair  after  heavenly  hope,  floated  through  the 
dark  prison-rooms  with  a  pathetic  cadence,  as  verse  after 
verse  was  breathed  out,  — 

"  Oh,  where  are  Paul  and  Silas  ? 
Oh,  where  are  Paul  and  Silas  ? 

Gone  to  the  goodly  land. 
They  are  dead  and  gone  to  heaven  ; 
They  are  dead  and  gone  to  heaven ; 

'Rived  in  the  goodly  land." 

Sing  on,  poor  souls !  The  night  is  short,  and  the  morn 
ing  will  part  you  forever! 

But  now  it  is  morning,  and  everybody  is  astir;  and  the 
worthy  Mr.  Skeggs  is  busy  and  bright,  for  a  lot  of  goods 
is  to  be  fitted  out  for  auction.  There  is  a  brisk  lookout 


100  UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIX;    OR 

on  the  toilet;  injunctions  passed  around  to  every  one  to 
put  on  their  best  face  and  be  spry;  and  now  all  are  ar 
ranged  in  a  circle  for  a  last  review,  before  they  are  marched 
up  to  the  Bourse. 

Mr.  Skeggs,  with  his  palmetto  on  and  his  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  walks  around  to  put  farewell  touches  on  his  wares. 

"How  's  this? "  he  said,  stepping  in  front  of  Susan  and 
Emmeline.  "Where's  your  curls,  gal?" 

The  girl  looked  timidly  at  her  mother,  who,  with  the 
smooth  adroitness  common  among  her  class,  answers,  — 

"  I  was  telling  her,  last  night,  to  put  up  her  hair  smooth 
and  neat,  and  not  havin'  it  flying  about  in  curls;  looks 
more  respectable  so." 

"Bother!"  said  the  man  peremptorily,  turning  to  the 
girl ;  "  you  go  right  along,  and  curl  yourself  real  smart !  " 
He  added,  giving  a  crack  to  a  rattan  he  held  in  his  hand, 
"  And  be  back  in  quick  time,  too !  " 

"You  go  and  help  her,"  he  added,  to  the  mother. 
"  Them  curls  may  make  a  hundred  dollars  difference  in  the 
sale  of  her. " 

Beneath  a  splendid  dome  were  men  of  all  nations,  mov 
ing  to  and  fro,  over  the  marble  pave.  On  every  side  of  the 
circular  area  were  little  tribunes,  or  stations,  for  the  use 
of  speakers  and  auctioneers.  Two  of  these,  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  area,  were  now  occupied  by  brilliant  and  tal 
ented  gentlemen,  enthusiastically  forcing  up,  in  English 
and  French  commingled,  the  bids  of  connoisseurs  in  their 
various  wares.  A  third  one,  on  the  other  side,  still  unoc 
cupied,  was  surrounded  by  a  group,  waiting  the  moment  of 
sale  to  begin.  And  here  we  may  recognize  the  St.  Clare 
servants,  —  Tom,  Adolph,  and  others ;  and  there,  too, 
Susan  and  Emmeline,  awaiting  their  turn  with  anxious  and 
dejected  faces.  Various  spectators,  intending  to  purchase, 
or  not  intending,  as  the  case  might  be,  gathered  around  the 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  101 

group,  handling,  examining,  and  commenting  on  their 
various  points  and  faces  with  the  same  freedom  that  a  set 
of  jockeys  discuss  the  merits  of  a  horse. 

"  Hulloa,  Alf !  what  brings  you  here  ?  "  said  a  young  ex 
quisite,  slapping  the  shoulder  of  a  sprucely  dressed  young 
man,  who  was  examining  Adolph  through  an  eyeglass. 

"Well,  I  was  wanting  a  valet,  and  I  heard  that  St. 
Clare's  lot  was  going.  I  thought  I  'd  just  look  at  his  "  — 

"Catch  me  ever  buying  any  of  St.  Clare's  people! 
Spoilt  niggers,  every  one.  Impudent  as  the  devil !  "  said 
the  other. 

"Never  fear  that!  "  said  the  first.  "If  I  get  'em,  I  '11 
soon  have  their  airs  out  of  them;  they'll  soon  find  that 
they  've  another  kind  of  master  to  deal  with  than  Monsieur 
St.  Clare.  Ton  my  word,  I  '11  buy  that  fellow.  I  like 
the  shape  of  him." 

"You'll  find  it'll  take  all  you've  got  to  keep  him. 
He  's  deucedly  extravagant!  " 

"Yes,  but  my  lord  will  find  that  he  can't  be  extravagant 
with  me.  Just  let  him  be  sent  to  the  calaboose  a  few 
times,  and  thoroughly  dressed  down!  I  '11  tell  you  if  it 
don't  bring  him  to  a  sense  of  his  ways!  Oh,  I  '11  reform 
him,  up  hill  and  down,  — you  '11  see.  I  buy  him,  that 's 
flat!" 

Tom  had  been  standing  wistfully  examining  the  multi 
tude  of  faces  thronging  around  him,  for  one  whom  he  would 
wish  to  call  master.  And  if  you  should  ever  be  under  the 
necessity,  sir,  of  selecting,  out  of  two  hundred  men,  one 
who  was  to  become  your  absolute  owner  and  disposer,  you 
would,  perhaps,  realize,  just  as  Tom  did,  how  few  there 
were  that  you  would  feel  at  all  comfortable  in  being  made 
over  to.  Tom  saw  abundance  of  men,  —  great,  burly, 
gruff  men ;  little,  chirping,  dried  men ;  long-favored,  lank, 
hard  men;  and  every  variety  of  stubbed-looking,  com 
monplace  men,  who  pick  up  their  fellow  men  as  one  picks 


102  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

up  chips,  putting  them  into  the  fire  or  a  basket  with  equal 
unconcern,  according  to  their  convenience;  but  he  saw  no 
St.  Clare. 

A  little  before  the  sale  commenced,  a  short,  broad,  mus 
cular  man,  in  a  checked  shirt  considerably  open  at  the 
bosom,  and  pantaloons  much  the  worse  for  dirt  and'  wear, 
elbowed  his  way  through  the  crowd,  like  one  who  is  going 
actively  into  a  business;  and,  coming  up  to  the  group,  be 
gan  to  examine  them  systematically.  From  the  moment 
that  Tom  saw  him  approaching,  he  felt  an  immediate  and 
revolting  horror  at  him,  that  increased  as  he  came  near. 
He  was  evidently,  though  short,  of  gigantic  strength.  His 
round  bullet-head,  large,  light-gray  eyes,  with  their  shaggy, 
sandy  eyebrows  and  stiff,  wiry,  sunburned  hair,  were  rather 
unprepossessing  items,  it  is  to  be  confessed;  his  large, 
coarse  mouth  was  distended  with  tobacco,  the  juice  of 
which,  from  time  to  time,  he  ejected  from  him  with  great 
decision  and  explosive  force;  his  hands  were  immensely 
large,  hairy,  sunburned,  freckled,  and  very  dirty,  and  gar 
nished  with  long  nails,  in  a  very  foul  condition.  This  man 
proceeded  to  a  very  free  personal  examination  of  the  lot. 
He  seized  Tom  by  the  jaw,  and  pulled  open  his  mouth 
to  inspect  his  teeth;  made  him  strip  up  his  sleeve,  to  show 
his  muscle;  turned  him  round,  made  him  jump  and  spring, 
to  show  his  paces. 

"Where  was  you  raised?"  he  added  briefly  to  these 
investigations. 

"In  Kintuck,  Mas'r,"  said  Tom,  looking  about,  as  if 
for  deliverance. 

"What  have  you  done?5' 

"Had  care  of  MasVs  farm,"  said  Tom. 

"Likely  story!"  said  the  other  shortly,  as  he  passed 
on.  He  paused  a  moment  before  Dolph;  then  spitting  a 
discharge  of  tobacco-juice  on  his  well-blacked  boots,  and 
giving  a  contemptuous  umph,  he  walked  on.  Again  he 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  103 

stopped  before  Susan  and  Emmeline.  He  put  out  his 
heavy,  dirty  hand,  and  drew  the  girl  towards  him;  passed 
it  over  her  neck  and  bust,  felt  her  arms,  looked  at  her 
teeth,  and  then  pushed  her  back  against  her  mother,  whose 
patient  face  showed  the  suffering  she  had  been  going 
through  at  every  motion  of  the  hideous  stranger. 

The  girl  was  frightened,  and  began  to  cry. 

"Stop  that,  you  minx!"  said  the  salesman:  "no  whim 
pering  here,  —  the  sale  is  going  to  begin. " 

And  accordingly  the  sale  began. 

Adolph  was  knocked  off,  at  a  good  sum,  to  the  young 
gentleman  who  had  previously  stated  his  intention  of  buy 
ing  him;  and  the  other  servants  of  the  St.  Clare  lot  went 
to  various  bidders. 

"Now,  up  with  you,  boy!  d'  ye  hear?"  said  the 
auctioneer  to  Tom. 

Tom  stepped  upon  the  block,  gave  a  few  anxious  looks 
round;  all  seemed  mingled  in  a  common,  indistinct  noise, 
—  the  clatter  of  the  salesman  crying  off  his  qualifications 
in  French  and  English,  the  quick  fire  of  French  and  Eng 
lish  bids ;  and  almost  in  a  moment  came  the  final  thump  of 
the  hammer,  and  the  clear  ring  on  the  last  syllable  of  the 
word  "dollars,"  as  the  auctioneer  announced  his  price, 
and  Tom  was  made  over.  —  He  had  a  master. 

He  was  pushed  from  the  block;  the  short,  bull-headed 
man,  seizing  him  roughly  by  the  shoulder,  pushed  him  to 
one  side,  saying,  in  a  harsh  voice,  "  Stand  there,  you  f  " 

Tom  hardly  realized  anything;  but  still  the  bidding 
went  on,  —  rattling,  clattering,  now  French,  now  English. 
Down  goes  the  hammer  again,  —  Susan  is  sold !  She  goes 
down  from  the  block,  stops,  looks  wistfully  back,  —  her 
daughter  stretches  her  hands  towards  her.  She  looks  with 
agony  in  the  face  of  the  man  who  has  bought  her,  —  a 
respectable,  middle-aged  man,  of  benevolent  countenance. 

"Oh,  Mas'r,  please  do  buy  my  daughter!" 


104  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

"I  'd  like  to,  but  I  'm  afraid  I  can't  afford  it! "  said  the 
gentleman,  looking,  with  painful  interest,  as  the  young  girl 
mounted  the  block,  and  looked  around  her  with  a  fright 
ened  and  timid  glance. 

The  blood  flushes  painfully  in  her  otherwise  colorless 
cheek,  her  eye  has  a  feverish  fire,  and  her  mother  groans 
to  see  that  she  looks  more  beautiful  than  she  ever  saw  her 
before.  The  auctioneer  sees  his  advantage,  and  expatiates 
volubly  in  mingled  French  and  English,  and  bids  rise  in 
rapid  succession. 

"I  '11  do  anything  in  reason,"  said  the  benevolent-look 
ing  gentleman,  pressing  in  and  joining  with  the  bids.  In 
a  few  moments  they  have  run  beyond  his  purse.  He  is 
silent;  the  auctioneer  grows  warmer;  but  bids  gradually 
drop  off.  It  lies  now  between  an  aristocratic  old  citizen 
and  our  bullet-headed  acquaintance.  The  citizen  bids  for 
a  few  turns,  contemptuously  measuring  his  opponent;  but 
the  bullet-head  has  the  advantage  over  him,  both  in  obsti 
nacy  and  concealed  length  of  purse,  and  the  controversy 
lasts  but  a  moment;  the  hammer  falls,  — he  has  got  the 
girl,  body  and  soul,  unless  God  help  her. 

Her  master  is  Mr.  Legree,  who  owns  a  cotton  plantation 
on  the  Red  River.  She  is  pushed  along  into  the  same  lot 
with  Tom  and  two  other  men,  and  goes  off,  weeping  as 
she  goes. 

The  benevolent  gentleman  is  sorry;  but,  then,  the 
thing  happens  every  day !  One  sees  girls  and  mothers 
crying,  at  these  sales,  always !  it  can't  be  helped,  etc.  ; 
and  he  walks  off,  with  his  acquisition,  in  another  direction. 

Two  days  after,  the  lawyer  of  the  Christian  firm  of  B. 
&  Co.,  New  York,  sent  on  their  money  to  them.  On  the 
reverse  of  that  draft,  so  obtained,  let  them  write  these 
words  of  the  great  Paymaster,  to  whom  they  shall  make  up 
their  account  in  a  future  day:  "  When  he  maketh  inquisi 
tion  for  blood,  he  forgetteth  not  the  cry  of  the  humble  !  " 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  105 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE    MIDDLE    PASSAGE 

"  Thou  art  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  evil,  and  canst  not  look  upon 
iniquity:  wherefore  lookest  thou  upon  them  that  deal  treacherously,  and 
holdest  thy  tongue  when  the  wicked  devoureth  the  man  that  is  more 
righteous  than  he  ?  "  —  Hob.  i.  13. 

ON  the  lower  part  of  a  small,  mean  boat,  on  the  Ked 
Eiver,  Tom  sat,  —  chains  on  his  wrists,  chains  on  his  feet, 
and  a  weight  heavier  than  chains  lay  on  his  heart.  All 
had  faded  from  his  sky,  —  moon  and  star ;  all  had  passed 
by  him,  as  the  trees  and  banks  were  now  passing,  to  re 
turn  no  more.  Kentucky  home,  with  wife  and  children, 
and  indulgent  owners;  St.  Clare  home,  with  all  its  refine 
ments  and  splendors;  the  golden  head  of  Eva,  with  its 
saint-like  eyes;  the  proud,  gay,  handsome,  seemingly  care 
less,  yet  ever-kind  St.  Clare;  hours  of  ease  and  indulgent 
leisure,  —  all  gone !  and  in  place  thereof,  what  remains  ? 

It  is  one  of  the  bitterest  apportionments  of  a  lot  of 
slavery,  that  the  negro,-  sympathetic  and  assimilative, 
after  acquiring,  in  a  refined  family,  the  tastes  and  feelings 
which  form  the  atmosphere  of  such  a  place,  is  not  the  less 
liable  to  become  the  bond-slave  of  the  coarsest  and  most 
brutal,  — just  as  a  chair  or  table,  which  once  decorated  the 
superb  saloon,  comes,  at  last,  battered  and  defaced,  to  the 
bar-room  of  some  filthy  tavern,  or  some  low  haunt  of  vul 
gar  debauchery.  The  great  difference  is,  that  the  table  and 
chair  cannot  feel,  and  the  man  can;  for  even  a  legal  en 
actment  that  he  shall  be  "taken,  reputed,  adjudged  in  law, 
to  be  a  chattel  personal,"  cannot  blot  out  his  soul,  with  its 


106  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

own  private  little  world  of  memories,  hopes,  loves,  fears, 
and  desires. 

Mr.  Simon  Legree,  Tom's  master,  had  purchased  slaves 
at  one  place  and  another,  in  New  Orleans,  to  the  number 
of  eight,  and  driven  them,  handcuffed,  in  couples  of  two 
and  two,  down  to  the  good  steamer  Pirate,  which  lay  at  the 
levee,  ready  for  a  trip  up  the  Red  River. 

Having  got  them  fairly  on  board,  and  the  boat  being  off, 
he  came  round,  with  that  air  of  efficiency  which  ever 
characterized  him,  to  take  a  review  of  them.  Stopping 
opposite  to  Tom,  who  had  been  attired  for  sale  in  his  best 
broadcloth  suit,  with  well-starched  linen  and  shining  boots, 
he  briefly  expressed  himself  as  follows :  — 

"Stand  up." 

Tom  stood  up. 

"Take  off  that  stock!  "  and,  as  Tom,  encumbered  by  his 
fetters,  proceeded  to  do  it,  he  assisted  him,  by  pulling  it, 
with  no  gentle  hand,  from  his  neck,  and  putting  it  in  his 
pocket. 

Legree  now  turned  to  Tom's  trunk,  which,  previous  to 
this,  he  had  been  ransacking,  and,  taking  from  it  a  pair  of 
old  pantaloons  and  a  dilapidated  coat,  which  Tom  had  been 
wont  to  put  on  about  his  stable-work,  he  said,  liberating 
Tom's  hands  from  the  handcuffs,  and  pointing  to  a  recess 
in  among  the  boxes,  — 

"You  go  there,  and  put  these  on." 

Tom  obeyed,  and  in  a  few  moments  returned. 

"Take  off  your  boots,"  said  Mr.  Legree. 

Tom  did  so. 

"There,"  said  the  former,  throwing  him  a  pair  of 
coarse,  stout  shoes,  such  as  were  common  among  the  slaves, 
"put  these  on." 

In  Tom's  hurried  exchange,  he  had  not  forgotten  to 
transfer  his  cherished  Bible  to  his  pocket.  It  was  well  he 
did  so;  for  Mr.  Legree,  having  refitted  Tom's  handcuff's, 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  107 

proceeded  deliberately  to  investigate  the  contents  of  his 
pockets.  He  drew  out  a  silk  handkerchief,  and  put  it  into 
his  own  pocket.  Several  little  trifles,  which  Tom  had 
treasured,  chiefly  because  they  had  amused  Eva,  he  looked 
upon  with  a  contemptuous  grunt,  and  tossed  them  over  his 
shoulder  into  the  river. 

Tom's  Methodist  hymn-book,  which,  in  his  hurry,  he 
had  forgotten,  he  now  held  up  and  turned  over. 

"Humph!  pious,  to  be  sure.      So,  what's  yer  name,  — 
you  belong  to  the  church,  eh  ?  " 

"Yes,  Mas'r,"  said  Tom  firmly. 

"Well,  I  '11  soon  have  that  out  of  you.  I  have  none  o' 
yer  bawling,  praying,  singing  niggers  on  my  place;  so  re 
member.  Now,  mind  yourself,"  he  said,  with  a  stamp 
and  a  fierce  glance  of  his  gray  eye,  directed  at  Tom,  "I'm 
your  church  now!  You  understand,  — you've  got  to  be 
as  I  say." 

Something  within  the  silent  black  man  answered  No ! 
and,  as  if  repeated  by  an  invisible  voice,  came  the  words 
of  an  old  prophetic  scroll,  as  Eva  had  often  read  them  to 
him, — "Fear  not!  for  I  have  redeemed  thee.  I  have 
called  thee  by  my  name.  Thou  art  MINE  !  " 

But  Simon  Legree  heard  no  voice.  That  voice  is  one 
he  never  shall  hear.  He  only  glared  for  a  moment  on  the 
downcast  face  of  Tom,  and  walked  off.  He  took  Tom's 
trunk,  which  contained  a  very  neat  and  abundant  wardrobe, 
to  the  forecastle,  where  it  was  soon  surrounded  by  various 
hands  of  the  boat.  With  much  laughing,  at  the  expense 
of  niggers  who  tried  to  be  gentlemen,  the  articles  very 
readily  were  sold  to  one  and  another,  and  the  empty  trunk 
finally  put  up  at  auction.  It  was  a  good  joke,  they  all 
thought,  especially  to  see  how  Tom  looked  after  his  things, 
as  they  were  going  this  way  and  that ;  and  then  the  auction 
of  the  trunk,  that  was  funnier  than  all,  and  occasioned 
abundant  witticisms. 


108  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

This  little  affair  being  over,  Simon  sauntered  up  again 
to  his  property. 

"Now,  Tom,  I've  relieved  you  of  any  extra  baggage, 
you  see.  Take  mighty  good  care  of  them  clothes.  It  '11 
be  long  enough  'fore  you  get  more.  I  go  in  for  making 
niggers  careful;  one  suit  has  to  do  for  one  year,  on  my 
place. " 

Simon  next  walked  up  to  the  place  where  Emmeline  was 
sitting,  chained  to  another  woman. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  he  said,  chucking  her  under  the  chin, 
"keep  up  your  spirits." 

The  involuntary  look  of  horror,  fright,  and  aversion  with 
which  the  girl  regarded  him  did  not  escape  his  eye. 
He  frowned  fiercely. 

"None  o'  your  shines,  gal!  you  's  got  to  keep  a  pleasant 
face,  when  I  speak  to  ye, — d'ye  hear?  And  you,  you 
old  yellow  poco  moonshine ! "  he  said,  giving  a  shove  to 
the  mulatto  woman  to  whom  Emmeline  was  chained,  "don't 
you  carry  that  sort  of  face !  You  's  got  to  look  chipper,  I 
tell  ye !  " 

"I  say,  all  on  ye,"  he  said,  retreating  a  pace  or  two 
back,  "look  at  me,  — look  at  me,  — look  me  right  in  the 
eye,  — straight  >  now!  "  said  he,  stamping  his  foot  at  every 
pause. 

As  by  a  fascination,  every  eye  was  now  directed  to  the 
glaring  greenish-gray  eye  of  Simon. 

"Now,"  said  he,  doubling  his  great,  heavy  fist  into 
something  resembling  a  blacksmith's  hammer,  "d'ye  see 
this  fist  ?  Heft  it !  "  he  said,  bringing  it  down  on  Tom's 
hand.  "Look  at  these  yer  bones!  Well,  I  tell  ye  this 
yer  fist  has  got  as  hard  as  iron  knocking  doivn  niggers. 
I  never  see  the  nigger,  yet,  I  couldn't  bring  down  with  one 
crack,"  said  he,  bringing  his  fist  down  so  near  to  the  face 
of  Tom  that  he  winked  and  drew  back.  "I  don't  keep 
none  o'  yer  cussed  overseers;  I  does  my  own  overseeing; 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  109 

and  I  tell  you  things  is  seen  to.  You  's  every  one  on  ye 
got  to  toe  the  mark,  I  tell  ye ;  quick,  —  straight,  —  the 
moment  I  speak.  That 's  the  way  to  keep  in  with  me. 
Ye  won't  find  no  soft  spot  in  me,  nowhere.  So,  now, 
mind  yerselves;  for  I  don't  show  no  mercy!  " 

The  women  involuntarily  drew  in  their  breath,  and  the 
whole  gang  sat  with  downcast,  dejected  faces.  Mean 
while,  Simon  turned  on  his  heel,  and  marched  up  to  the 
bar  of  the  boat  for  a  dram. 

"That's  the  way  I  begin  with  my  niggers,"  he  said  to 
a  gentlemanly  man  who  had  stood  by  him  during  his 
speech.  "It's  my  system  to  begin  strong,  — just  let  'em 
know  what  to  expect." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  the  stranger,  looking  upon  him  with 
the  curiosity  of  a  naturalist  studying  some  out-of-the-way 
specimen. 

"Yes,  indeed.  I'm  none  o'  yer  gentlemen  planters, 
with  lily  fingers,  to  slop  round  and  be  cheated  by  some  old 
cuss  of  an  overseer!  Just  feel  of  my  knuckles,  now;  look 
at  my  fist.  Tell  ye,  sir,  the  flesh  on  't  has  come  jest  like 
a  stone,  practicing  on  niggers,  —  feel  on  it. " 

The  stranger  applied  his  fingers  to  the  implement  in 
question,  and  simply  said,  — 

"'Tis  hard  enough;  and,  I  suppose,"  he  added,  "prac 
tice  has  made  your  heart  just  like  it." 

"Why,  yes,  I  may  say  so,"  said  Simon,  with  a  hearty 
laugh.  "I  reckon  there  'sas  little  soft  in  me  as  in  any  one 
going.  Tell  you,  nobody  comes  it  over  me !  Niggers  never 
gets  round  me,  neither  with  squalling  nor  soft  soap,  — 
that's  a  fact." 

"You  have  a  fine  lot  there." 

"Keal,"  said  Simon.  "There's  that  Tom,  they  telled 
me  he  was  suthin  uncommon.  I  paid  a  little  high  for  him, 
'tendin'  him  for  a  driver  and  a  managing  chap;  only  get 
the  notions  out  that  he  's  larnt  by  being  treated  as  niggers 


110  UNCLE   TOM'S   CARTX  ;    OR 

never  ought  to  be,  he  '11  do  prime!  The  yellow  woman  I 
got  took  in  in.  I  rayther  think  she  's  sickly,  but  I  shall 
put  her  through  for  what  she  's  worth;  she  may  last  a  year 
or  two.  I  don't  go  for  savin'  niggers.  Use  up,  and  buy 
more  's  my  way,  — makes  you  less  trouble,  and  I  'm  quite 
sure  it  comes  cheaper  in  the  end ; "  and  Simon  sipped  his 
glass. 

"And  how  long  do  they  generally  last?  "  said  the  stran 
ger. 

"Well,  donno;  'cordin'  as  their  constitution  is.  Stout 
fellers  last  six  or  seven  years;  trashy  ones  gets  worked  up 
in  two  or  three.  I  used  to,  when  I  fust  begun,  have 
considerable  trouble  fussin'  with  'em,  and  trying  to  make 
'em  hold  out,  —  doctorin'  on  'em  up  when  they  's  sick  and 
givin'  on  'em  clothes  and  blankets,  and  what  not,  tryin'  to 
keep  'em  all  sort  o'  decent  and  comfortable.  Law,  't  was  n't 
no  sort  o'  use;  I  lost  money  on  'em,  and  'twas  heaps  o' 
trouble.  Now,  you  see,  I  just  put  'em  straight  through, 
sick  or  well.  When  one  nigger's  dead,  I  buy  another; 
and  I  find  it  comes  cheaper  and  easier,  every  way." 

The  stranger  turned  away,  and  seated  himself  beside  a 
gentleman,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation  with 
repressed  uneasiness. 

"You  must  not  take  that  fellow  to  be  any  specimen  of 
southern  planters,"  said  he. 

"I  should  hope  not,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  with 
emphasis. 

"He  is  a  mean,  low,  brutal  fellow!  "  said  the  other. 

"And  yet  your  laws  allow  him  to  hold  any  number  of 
human  beings  subject  to  his  absolute  will,  without  even  a 
shadow  of  protection;  and,  low  as  he  is,  you  cannot  say 
that  there  are  not  many  such." 

"Well,"  said  the  other,  "there  are  also  many  considerate 
and  humane  men  among  planters." 

"Granted,"  said  the  young  man;  "but,  in  my  opinion, 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  111 

it  is  you  considerate,  humane  men,  that  are  responsible  for 
all  the  brutality  and  outrage  wrought  by  these  wretches; 
because,  if  it  were  not  for  your  sanction  and  influence,  the 
whole  system  could  not  keep  foothold  for  an  hour.  If  there 
were  no  planters  except  such  as  that  one, "  said  he,  pointing 
with  his  finger  to  Legree,  who  stood  with  his  back  to 
them,  "the  whole  thing  would  go  down  like  a  mill-stone. 
It  is  your  respectability  and  humanity  that  licenses  and 
protects  his  brutality." 

"  You  certainly  have  a  high  opinion  of  my  good  nature, " 
said  the  planter,  smiling;  "but  I  advise  you  not  to  talk 
quite  so  loud,  as  there  are  people  on  board  the  boat  who 
might  not  be  quite  so  tolerant  to  opinion  as  I  am.  You 
had  better  wait  till  I  get  up  to  my  plantation,  and  there 
you  may  abuse  us  all,  quite  at  your  leisure.7' 

The  young  gentleman  colored  and  smiled,  and  the  two 
were  soon  busy  in  a  game  of  backgammon.  Meanwhile, 
another  conversation  was  going  on  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
boat,  between  Emmeline  and  the  mulatto  woman  with 
whom  she  was  confined.  As  was  natural,  they  were  ex 
changing  with  each  other  some  particulars  of  their  history. 

"Who  did  you  belong  to?  "  said  Emmeline. 

"Well,  my  Mas'r  was  Mr.  Ellis,  — lived  on  Levee 
Street.  PVaps  you  've  seen  the  house." 

"Was  he  good  to  you?  "  said  Emmeline. 

"Mostly,  till  he  tuk  sick.  He  's  lain  sick,  off  and  on, 
more  than  six  months,  and  been  orful  oneasy.  'Pears  like 
he  warn't  willin'  to  have  nobody  rest,  day  nor  night;  and 
got  so  curous,  there  couldn't  nobody  suit  him.  'Pears  like 
he  just  grew  crosser,  every  day;  kep  me  up  nights  till  I 
got  farly  beat  out,  and  couldn't  keep  awake  no  longer;  and 
'cause  I  got  to  sleep,  one  night,  Lors,  he  talk  so  orful  to 
me,  and  he  tell  me  he  'd  sell  me  to  just  the  hardest  master 
he  could  find;  and  he'd  promised  me  my  freedom,  too, 
when  he  died." 


112  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"  Had  you  any  friends  ?  "  said  Emmeline. 

"Yes,  my  husband,  — he  's  a  blacksmith.  Mas'r  gen'ly 
hired  him  out.  They  took  me  off  so  quick,  I  didn't  even 
have  time  to  see  him;  and  I 's  got  four  children.  Oh, 
dear  me ! "  said  the  woman,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

It  is  a  natural  impulse,  in  every  one,  when  they  hear  a 
tale  of  distress,  to  think  of  something  to  say  by  way  of 
consolation.  Emmeline  wanted  to  say  something,  but  she 
could  not  think  of  anything  to  say.  What  was  there  to  be 
said  ?  As  by  a  common  consent,  they  both  avoided,  with 
fear  and  dread,  all  mention  of  the  horrible  man  who  was 
now  their  master. 

True,  there  is  religious  trust  for  even  the  darkest  hour. 
The  mulatto  woman  was  a  member  of  the  Methodist 
Church,  and  had  an  unenlightened  but  very  sincere  spirit  of 
piety.  Emmeline  had  been  educated  much  more  intelli 
gently,  —  taught  to  read  and  write,  and  diligently  in 
structed  in  the  Bible,  by  the  care  of  a  faithful  and  pious 
mistress;  yet,  would  it  not  try  the  faith  of  the  firmest 
Christians  to  find  themselves  abandoned,  apparently,  of 
God,  in  the  grasp  of  ruthless  violence  1  How  much  more 
must  it  shake  the  faith  of  Christ's  poor  little  ones,  weak  in 
knowledge  and  tender  in  years. 

The  boat  moved  on,  —  freighted  with  its  weight  of  sor 
row,  —  up  the  red,  muddy,  turbid  current,  through  the 
abrupt,  tortuous  windings  of  the  Red  River;  and  sad  eyes 
gazed  wearily  on  the  steep  red-clay  banks,  as  they  glided 
by  in  dreary  sameness.  At  last  the  boat  stopped  at  a  small 
town,  and  Legree,  with  his  party,  disembarked. 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  113 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

DARK    PLACES 

"  The  dark  places  of  the  earth  are  full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty." 

TRAILING  wearily  behind  a  rude  wagon,  and  over  a 
ruder  road,  Tom  and  his  associates  faced  onward. 

In  the  wagon  was  seated  Simon  Legree;  and  the  two 
women,  still  fettered  together,  were  stowed  away  with 
some  baggage  in  the  back  part  of  it;  and  the  whole  com 
pany  were  seeking  Legree 's  plantation,  which  lay  a  good 
distance  off. 

It  was  a  wild,  forsaken  road,  now  winding  through 
dreary  pine  barrens,  where  the  wind  whispered  mourn 
fully,  and  now  over  log  causeways,  through  long  cypress 
swamps,  the  doleful  trees  rising  out  of  the  slimy,  spongy 
ground,  hung  with  long  wreaths  of  funereal  black  moss, 
while  ever  and  anon  the  loathsome  form  of  the  moccasin 
snake  might  be  seen  sliding  among  broken  stumps  and 
shattered  branches  that  lay  here  and  there,  rotting  in  the 
water. 

It  is  disconsolate  enough,  this  riding,  to  the  stranger, 
who,  with  well-filled  pocket  and  well-appointed  horse, 
threads  the  lonely  way  on  some  errand  of  business;  but 
wilder,  drearier,  to  the  man  enthralled,  whom  every  weary 
step  bears  further  from  all  that  man  loves  and  prays  for. 

So  one  should  have  thought,  that  witnessed  the  sunken 
and  dejected  expression  on  those  dark  faces;  the  wistful, 
patient  weariness  with  which  those  sad  eyes  rested  on  ob 
ject  after  object  that  passed  them  in  their  sad  journey. 

VOL.  II. 


114  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

Simon  rode  on,  however,  apparently  well  pleased,  oc 
casionally  pulling  away  at  a  flask  of  spirit,  which  he  kept 
in  his  pocket. 

"I  say,  you  !  "  he  said,  as  he  turned  back  and  caught  a 
glance  at  the  dispirited  faces  behind  him.  "  Strike  up  a 
song,  boys,  —  come !  " 

The  men  looked  at  each  other,  and  the  "  come  "  was  re 
peated,  with  a  smart  crack  of  the  whip  which  the  driver 
carried  in  his  hands.  Tom  began  a  Methodist  hymn,  — 

"  Jerusalem,  my  happy  home. 
Name  ever  dear  to  me  ! 
When  shall  my  sorrows  have  an  end, 
Thy  joys  when  shall  "  — 

"  Shut  up,  you  black  cuss ! "  roared  Legree ;  "  did  ye 
think  I  wanted  any  o'  yer  infernal  old  Methodism  1  I  say, 
tune  up,  now,  something  real  rowdy,  —  quick !  " 

One  of  the  other  men  struck  up  one  of  those  unmeaning 
songs,  common  among  the  slaves. 

"  Mas'r  see'd  me  cotch  a  coon, 

High  boys,  high! 
He  laughed  to  split,  —  d'  ye  see  the  moon, 

Ho!  ho!  ho!  boys,  ho! 
Ho!  yo!  hi  — e!  oh!" 

The  singer  appeared  to  make  up  the  song  to  his  own 
pleasure,  generally  hitting  on  rhyme,  without  much  attempt 
at  reason;  and  all  the  party  took  up  the  chorus,  at  inter 
vals,  — 

"Ho!  ho!  ho!  boys,  ho! 
High  —  e — oh!  high  —  e — oh!" 

It  was  sung  very  boisterously,  and  with  a  forced  attempt 
at  merriment;  but  no  wail  of  despair,  no  words  of  impas 
sioned  prayer,  could  have  had  such  a  depth  of  woe  in  them 
as  the  wild  notes  of  the  chorus.  As  if  the  poor,  dumb 
heart,  threatened,  —  prisoned,  —  took  refuge  in  that  inar 
ticulate  sanctuary  of  music,  and  found  there  a  language  in 
which  to  breathe  its  prayer  to  God !  There  was  a  prayer 
in  it,  which  Simon  could  not  hear.  He  only  heard  the 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  115 

boys  singing  noisily,  and  was  well  pleased;  he  was  making 
them  "keep  up  their  spirits." 

"Well,  my  little  dear,"  said  he,  turning  to  Emmeline, 
and  laying  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  "we're  almost 
home ! " 

When  Legree  scolded  and  stormed,  Emmeline  was  ter 
rified;  but  when  he  laid  his  hand  on  her,  and  spoke  as  he 
now  did,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  rather  he  would  strike  her. 
The  expression  of  his  eyes  made  her  soul  sick,  and  her 
flesh  creep.  Involuntarily  she  clung  closer  to  the  mulatto 
woman  by  her  side,  as  if  she  were  her  mother. 

"You  didn't  ever  wear  earrings?"  he  said,  taking  hold 
of  her  small  ear  with  his  coarse  ringers. 

"No,  Mas'r!"  said  Emmeline,  trembling  and  looking 
down. 

"Well,  I'll  give  you  a  pair,  when  we  get  home,  if 
you're  a  good  girl.  You  need  n't  be  so  frightened;  I 
don't  mean  to  make  you  work  very  hard.  You  '11  have 
fine  times  with  me,  and  live  like  a  lady,  —  only  be  a  good 
girl." 

Legree  had  been  drinking  to  that  degree  that  he  was  in 
clining  to  be  very  gracious ;  and  it  was  about  this  time  that 
the  inclosures  of  the  plantation  rose  to  view.  The  estate 
had  formerly  belonged  to  a  gentleman  of  opulence  and 
taste,  who  had  bestowed  some  considerable  attention  to  the 
adornment  of  his  grounds.  Having  died  insolvent,  it  had 
been  purchased,  at  a  bargain,  by  Legree,  who  used  it,  as 
he  did  everything  else,  merely  as  an  implement  for  money- 
making.  The  place  had  that  ragged,  forlorn  appearance, 
which  is  always  produced  by  the  evidence  that  the  care  of 
the  former  owner  has  been  left  to  go  to  utter  decay. 

What  was  once  a  smooth-shaven  lawn  before  the  house, 
dotted  here  and  there  with  ornamental  shrubs,  was  now 
covered  with  frouzy  tangled  grass,  with  horse-posts  set 
up,  here  and  there,  in  it,  where  the  turf  was  stamped  away, 


116  UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIX;    OR 

and  the  ground  littered  with  broken  pails,  cobs  of  corn, 
and  other  slovenly  remains.  Here  and  there,  a  mildewed 
jessamine  or  honeysuckle  hung  raggedly  from  some  orna 
mental  support,  which  had  been  pushed  to  one  side  by  be 
ing  used  as  a  horse-post.  What  once  was  a  large  garden 
was  now  all  grown  over  with  weeds,  through  which,  here 
and  there,  some  solitary  exotic  reared  its  forsaken  head. 
What  had  been  a  conservatory  had  now  no  window-sashes, 
and  on  the  mouldering  shelves  stood  some  dry,  forsaken 
flower-pots  with  sticks  in  them,  whose  dried  leaves  showed 
they  had  once  been  plants. 

The  wagon  rolled  up  a  weedy  gravel  walk,  under  a  noble 
avenue  of  China-trees,  whose  graceful  forms  and  ever- 
springing  foliage  seemed  to  be  the  only  things  there  that 
neglect  could  not  daunt  or  alter,  —  like  noble  spirits,  so 
deeply  rooted  in  goodness,  as  to  flourish  and  grow  stronger 
amid  discouragement  and  decay. 

The  house  had  been  large  and  handsome.  It  was  built 
in  a  manner  common  at  the  south;  a  wide  veranda  of  two 
stories  running  round  every  part  of  the  house,  into  which 
every  outer  door  opened,  the  lower  tier  being  supported  by 
brick  pillars. 

But  the  place  looked  desolate  and  uncomfortable ;  some 
windows  stopped  up  with  boards,  some  with  shattered 
panes,  and  shutters  hanging  by  a  single  hinge,  —  all  telling 
of  coarse  neglect  and  discomfort. 

Bits  of  board,  straw,  old  decayed  barrels  and  boxes, 
garnished  the  ground  in  all  directions ;  and  three  or  four 
ferocious-looking  dogs,  roused  by  the  sound  of  the  wagon- 
wheels,  came  tearing  out,  and  were  with  difficulty  restrained 
from  laying  hold  of  Tom  and  his  companions,  by  the  effort 
of  the  ragged  servants  who  came  after  them. 

"Ye  see  what  ye  'd  get!"  said  Legree,  caressing  the 
dogs  with  grim  satisfaction,  and  turning  to  Tom  and  his 
companions.  "Ye  see  what  ye  'd  get,  if  ye  try  to  run  off. 


LIFE  AMONG  THE   LOWLY  117 

These  yer  dogs  has  been  raised  to  track  niggers;  and 
they  'd  jest  as  soon  chaw  one  on  ye  up  as  to  eat  their  sup 
per.  So,  mind  yerself !  How  now,  Sambo !  "  he  said,  to 
a  ragged  fellow,  without  any  brim  to  his  hat,  who  was  offi 
cious  in  his  attentions.  "How  have  things  been  going?  " 

"Fust-rate,  Mas'r." 

"Quimbo,"  said  Legree  to  another,  who  was  making 
zealous  demonstrations  to  attract  his  attention,  uye  minded 
what  I  telled  ye  ?  " 

"Guess  I  did,  didn't  I ?» 

These  two  colored  men  were  the  two  principal  hands  on 
the  plantation.  Legree  had  trained  them  in  savageness 
and  brutality  as  systematically  as  he  had  his  bulldogs; 
and,  by  long  practice  in  hardness  and  cruelty,  brought  their 
whole  nature  to  about  the  same  range  of  capacities.  It  is 
a  common  remark,  and  one  that  is  thought  to  militate 
strongly  against  the  character  of  the  race,  that  the  negro 
overseer  is  always  more  tyrannical  and  cruel  than  the  white 
one.  This  is  simply  saying  that  the  negro  mind  has  been 
more  crushed  and  debased  than  the  white.  It  is  no  more 
true  of  this  race  than  of  every  oppressed  race,  the  world 
over.  The  slave  is  always  a  tyrant,  if  he  can  get  a  chance 
to  be  one. 

Legree,  like  some  potentates  we  read  of  in  history,  gov 
erned  his  plantation  by  a  sort  of  resolution  of  forces. 
Sambo  and  Quimbo  cordially  hated  each  other;  the  plan 
tation  hands,  one  and  all,  cordially  hated  them;  and  by 
playing  off  one  against  another,  he  was  pretty  sure,  through 
one  or  the  other  of  the  three  parties,  to  get  informed  of 
whatever  was  on  foot  in  the  place. 

Nobody  can  live  entirely  without  social  intercourse;  and 
Legree  encouraged  his  two  black  satellites  to  a  kind  of 
coarse  familiarity  with  him,  —  a  familiarity,  however,  at 
any  moment  liable  to  get  one  or  the  other  of  them  into 
trouble;  for,  on  the  slightest  provocation,  one  of  them 


118  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

always  stood  ready,  at  a  nod,  to  be  a  minister  of  his  ven 
geance  on  the  other. 

As  they  stood  there  now  by  Legree,  they  seemed  an  apt 
illustration  of  the  fact  that  brutal  men  are  lower  even  than 
animals.  Their  coarse,  dark,  heavy  features;  their  great 
eyes,  rolling  enviously  on  each  other;  their  barbarous, 
guttural,  half- brute  intonation;  their  dilapidated  garments 
fluttering  in  the  wind,  —  were  all  in  admirable  keeping 
with  the  vile  and  unwholesome  character  of  everything 
about  the  place. 

"Here,  you  Sambo,"  said  Legree,  "take  these  yer  boys 
down  to  the  quarters;  and  here  's  a  gal  I  've  got  for  you^ 
said  he,  as  he  separated  the  mulatto  woman  from  Emme- 
line,  and  pushed  her  towards  him;  —  "I  promised  to  bring 
you  one,  you  know." 

The  woman  gave  a  sudden  start,  and,  drawing  back,  said 
suddenly,  — 

"Oh,  Mas'r!  I  left  my  old  man  in  New  Orleans." 

"What  of  that,  you—  -;  won't  you  want  one  here1? 
None  o'  yer  words,  — go  'long!"  said  Legree,  raising  his 
whip. 

"Come,  mistress,"  he  said  to  Emmeline,  "you  go  in 
here  with  me." 

A  dark,  wild  face  was  seen,  for  a  moment,  to  glance  at 
the  window  of  the  house;  and  as  Legree  opened  the  door, 
a  female  voice  said  something,  in  a  quick,  imperative  tone. 
Tom,  who  was  looking  with  anxious  interest  after  Emme 
line,  as  she  went  in,  noticed  this,  and  heard  Legree  answer 
angrily,  "You  may  hold  your  tongue!  I  '11  do  as  I  please, 
for  all  you !  " 

Tom  heard  no  more ;  for  he  was  soon  following  Sambo 
to  the  quarters.  The  quarters  was  a  little  sort  of  street 
of  rude  shanties,  in  a  row,  in  a  part  of  the  plantation,  far 
off  from  the  house.  They  had  a  forlorn,  brutal,  forsaken 
air. 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  119 

Tom's  heart  sunk  when  he  saw  them.  He  had  been 
comforting  himself  with  the  thought  of  a  cottage,  rude,  in 
deed,  hut  one  which  he  might  make  neat  and  quiet,  and 
where  he  might  have  a  shelf  for  his  Bible,  and  a  place  to 
be  alone  out  of  his  laboring  hours.  He  looked  into  sev 
eral;  they  were  mere  rude  shells,  destitute  of  any  species 
of  furniture,  except  a  heap  of  straw,  foul  with  dirt,  spread 
confusedly  over  the  floor,  which  was  merely  the  bare 
ground,  trodden  hard  by  the  tramping  of  innumerable  feet. 

"Which  of  these  will  be  mine1?"  said  he  to  Sambo 
submissively. 

"Dunno;  ken  turn  in  here,  I  s'pose,"  said  Sambo; 
"spects  thar  's  room  for  another  thar;  thar  's  a  pretty  smart 
heap  o'  niggers  to  each  on  'em,  now;  sure,  I  dunno  what 
I 's  to  do  with  more." 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  the  weary  occupants  of 
the  shanties  came  flocking  home,  —  men  and  women,  in 
soiled  and  tattered  garments,  surly  and  uncomfortable,  and 
in  no  mood  to  look  pleasantly  on  newcomers.  The  small 
village  was  alive  with  no  inviting  sounds;  hoarse,  guttural 
voices  contending  at  the  handmills  where  their  morsel  of 
hard  corn  was  yet  to  be  ground  into  meal,  to  fit  it  for  the 
cake  that  was  to  constitute  their  only  supper.  From  the 
earliest  dawn  of  the  day,  they  had  been  in  the  fields, 
pressed  to  work  under  the  driving  lash  of  the  overseers; 
for  it  was  now  in  the  very  heat  and  hurry  of  the  season, 
and  no  means  was  left  untried  to  press  every  one  up  to  the 
top  of  their  capabilities.  "True,"  says  the  negligent 
lounger;  "picking  cotton  isn't  hard  work."  Isn't  it? 
And  it  is  n't  much  inconvenience,  either,  to  have  one  drop 
of  water  fall  on  your  head;  yet  the  worst  torture  of  the 
Inquisition  is  produced  by  drop  after  drop,  drop  after 
drop,  falling  moment  after  moment,  with  monotonous  suc 
cession,  on  the  same  spot;  and  work,  in  itself  not  hard, 


120  UtfCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

becomes  so,  by  being  pressed,  hour  after  hour,  with  un 
varying,  unrelenting  sameness,  with  not  even  the  con 
sciousness  of  free-will  to  take  from  its  tediousness.  Tom 
looked  in  vain  among  the  gang,,  as  they  poured  along,  for 
companionable  faces.  He  saw  only  sullen,  scowling,  im- 
bruted  men,  and  feeble,  discouraged  women,  or  women  that 
were  not  women,  —  the  strong  pushing  away  the  weak,  — 
the  gross,  unrestricted  animal  selfishness  of  human  beings, 
of  whom  nothing  good  was  expected  and  desired ;  and  who, 
treated  in  every  way  like  brutes,  had  sunk  as  nearly  to 
their  level  as  it  was  possible  for  human  beings  to  do.  To 
a  late  hour  in  the  night  the  sound  of  the  grinding  was 
protracted;  for  the  mills  were  few  in  number  compared 
with  the  grinders,  and  the  weary  and  feeble  ones  were 
driven  back  by  the  strong,  and  came  on  last  in  their  turn. 

"Ho  yo' ! "  said  Sambo,  coming  to  the  mulatto  woman, 
and  throwing  down  a  bag  of  corn  before  her;  "what  a 
cuss  yo'  name?  " 

"Lucy,"  said  the  woman. 

"Wai,  Lucy,  yo'  my  woman  now.  Yo'  grind  dis  yer 
corn,  and  get  my  supper  baked,  ye  liar  1  " 

"I  ain't  your  woman,  and  I  won't  be!  "  said  the  woman, 
with  the  sharp,  sudden  courage  of  despair;  "you  go 
'long!" 

"I'll  kick  yo',  then!"  said  Sambo,  raising  his  foot 
threateningly. 

"Ye  may  kill  me,  if  ye  choose,  — the  sooner  the  better! 
Wish  't  I  was  dead!  "  said  she. 

"I  say,  Sambo,  you  go  to  spilin'  the  hands,  I'll  tell 
Mas'r  o'  you,"  said  Quimbo,  who  was  busy  at  the  mill, 
from  which  he  had  viciously  driven  two  or  three  tired 
women,  who  were  waiting  to  grind  their  corn. 

"And  I  '11  tell  him  ye  won't  let  the  women  come  to  the 
mills,  yo'  old  nigger!"  said  Sambo.  "  Yo'  jes  keep  to 
yo'  own  row." 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  121 

Tom  was  hungry  with  his  day's  journey,  and  almost 
faint  for  want  of  food. 

"Thar,  yo' ! "  said  Quimbo,  throwing  down  a  coarse  bag, 
which  contained  a  peck  of  corn;  "thar,  nigger,  grab,  take 
car'  on 't,  — yo'  won't  get  no  more,  dis  yer  week." 

Tom  waited  till  a  late  hour,  to  get  a  place  at  the  mills; 
and  then,  moved  by  the  utter  weariness  of  two  women, 
whom  he  saw  trying  to  grind  their  corn  there,  he  ground 
for  them,  put  together  the  decaying  brands  of  the  fire 
where  many  had  baked  cakes  before  them,  and  then  went 
about  getting  his  own  supper.  It  was  a  new  kind  of  work 
there,  —  a  deed  of  charity,  small  as  it  was ;  but  it  woke  an 
answering  touch  in  their  hearts,  —  an  expression  of  wo 
manly  kindness  came  over  their  hard  faces ;  they  mixed  his 
cake  for  him,  and  tended  its  baking;  and  Tom  sat  down 
by  the  light  of  the  fire,  and  drew  out  his  Bible,  — for  he 
had  need  of  comfort. 

"What 's  that?  "  said  one  of  the  women. 

"A  Bible,"  said  Tom. 

"Good  Lord!  hain't  seen  un  since  I  was  in  Kentuck." 

"Was  you  raised  in  Kentuck?"  said  Tom,  with  inter 
est. 

"Yes,  and  well  raised,  too;  never  spected  to  come  to  dis 
yer !  "  said  the  woman,  sighing. 

"What  'sdat  ar  book,  any  way?  "said  the  other  woman. 

"Why,  the  Bible." 

"Laws  a  me!  what 's  dat?  "  said  the  woman. 

"Do  tell!  you  never  hearn  on't?"  said  the  other 
woman.  "I  used  to  har  Missis  a-readin'  on  't,  sometimes, 
in  Kentuck;  but,  laws  o'  me!  we  don't  har  nothin'  here 
but  crackin'  and  swarin'." 

"Eead  a  piece,  anyways!"  said  the  first  woman  curi 
ously,  seeing  Tom  attentively  poring  over  it. 

Tom  read,  —  "  Come  unto  ME,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 


122  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"Them's  good  words  enough,'-  said  the  woman;  "who 
says  'em?  " 

"The  Lord,"  said  Tom. 

"I  jest  wish  I  know'd  whar  to  find  him,"  said  the 
woman.  "I  would  go;  'pears  like  I  never  should  get 
rested  agin.  My  flesh  is  fairly  sore,  and  I  tremble  all 
over,  every  day,  and  Sambo  's  allers  a- j  a  win'  at  me,  'cause 
I  doesn't  pick  faster;  and  nights  it 's  most  midnight  'fore 
I  can  get  my  supper;  and  then  'pears  like  I  don't  turn 
over  and  shut  my  eyes,  'fore  I  hear  de  horn  blow  to  get 
up,  and  at  it  agin  in  de  mornin'.  If  I  knew  whar  de 
Lord  was,  I  'd  tell  him." 

"He  's  here,  he  's  everywhere,"  said  Tom. 

"Lor,  you  ain't  gwine  to  make  me  believe  dat  ar!  I 
know  de  Lord  ain't  here,"  said  the  woman;  "  't  ain't  no  use 
talking,  though.  I 's  jest  gwine  to  camp  down,  and  sleep 
while  I  ken." 

The  women  went  off  to  their  cabins,  and  Tom  sat  alone, 
by  the  smouldering  fire,  that  flickered  up  redly  in  his  face. 

The  silver,  fair- browed  moon  rose  in  the  purple  sky,  and 
looked  down,  calm  and  silent,  as  God  looks  on  the  scene  of 
misery  and  oppression,  —  looked  calmly  on  the  lone  black 
man,  as  he  sat,  with  his  arms  folded,  and  his  Bible  on  his 
knee. 

"Is  God  HEBE1?"  Ah,  how  is  it  possible  for  the  un 
taught  heart  to  keep  its  faith,  unswerving,  in  the  face  of 
dire  misrule,  and  palpable,  unrebuked  injustice?  In  that 
simple  heart  waged  a  fierce  conflict:  the  crushing  sense  of 
wrong,  the  foreshadowing  of  a  whole  life  of  future  misery, 
the  wreck  of  all  past  hopes,  mournfully  tossing  in  the  soul's 
sight,  like  dead  corpses  of  wife,  and  child,  and  friend,  ris 
ing  from  the  dark  wave,  and  surging  in  the  face  of  the  half- 
drowned  mariner !  Ah,  was  it  easy  here  to  believe  and  hold 
fast  the  great  password  of  Christian  faith,  "that  God  is, 
and  is  the  REWARDER  of  them  that  diligently  seek  him  "  1 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  123 

Tom  rose,  disconsolate,  and  stumbled  into  the  cabin 
that  had  been  allotted  to  him.  The  floor  was  already 
strewn  with  weary  sleepers,  and  the  foul  air  of  the  place 
almost  repelled  him;  but  the  heavy  night-dews  were  chill, 
and  his  limbs  weary,  and,  wrapping  about  him  a  tattered 
blanket,  which  formed  his  only  bed-clothing,  he  stretched 
himself  in  the  straw  and  fell  asleep. 

In  dreams,  a  gentle  voice  came  over  his  ear;  he  was 
sitting  on  the  mossy  seat  in  the  garden  by  Lake  Pontchar- 
train,  and  Eva,  with  her  serious  eyes  bent  downward,  was 
reading  to  him  from  the  Bible;  and  he  heard  her  read,  — 

"When  thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with 
thee,  and  the  rivers  they  shall  not  overflow  thee;  when 
thou  walkest  through  the  fire,  thou  shalt  not  be  burned, 
neither  shall  the  flame  kindle  upon  thee ;  for  I  am  the  Lord 
thy  God,  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  thy  Saviour." 

Gradually  the  words  seemed  to  melt  and  fade,  as  in  a  di 
vine  music;  the  child  raised  her  deep  eyes,  and  fixed  them 
lovingly  on  him,  and  rays  of  warmth  and  comfort  seemed 
to  go  from  them  to  his  heart;  and,  as  if  wafted  on  the 
music,  she  seemed  to  rise  on  shining  wings,  from  which 
flakes  and  spangles  of  gold  fell  off  like  stars,  and  she  was 
gone. 

Tom  woke.  Was  it  a  dream?  Let  it  pass  for  one. 
But  who  shall  say  that  that  sweet  young  spirit,  which  in 
life  so  yearned  to  comfort  and  console  the  distressed,  was 
forbidden  of  God  to  assume  this  ministry  after  death  1 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  belief, 

That  ever  round  our  head 

Are  hovering,  on  angel  wings, 

The  spirits  of  the  dead." 


124  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;     OR 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

CASSY 

"  And  behold,  the  tears  of  such  as  were  oppressed,  and  they  had  no  com 
forter  ;  and  on  the  side  of  their  oppressors  there  was  power,  but  they  had 
no  comforter."  —  Ecd.  iv.  1. 

IT  took  but  a  short  time  to  familiarize  Tom  with  all  that 
was  to  be  hoped  or  feared  in  his  new  way  of  life.  He  was 
an  expert  and  efficient  workman  in  whatever  he  undertook, 
and  was,  both  from  habit  and  principle,  prompt  and  faithful. 
Quiet  and  peaceable  in  his  disposition  he  hoped,  by  unremit 
ting  diligence,  to  avert  from  himself  at  least  a  portion  of  the 
evils  of  his  condition.  He  saw  enough  of  abuse  and  misery 
to  make  him  sick  and  weary  ;  but  he  determined  to  toil  on 
with  religious  patience,  committing  himself  to  Him  that 
judgeth  righteously,  not  without  hope  that  some  way  of 
escape  might  yet  be  opened  to  him. 

Legree  took  silent  note  of  Tom's  availability.  He  rated 
him  as  a  first-class  hand  ;  and  yet  he  felt  a  secret  dislike 
to  him,  —  the  native  antipathy  of  bad  to  good.  He  saw 
plainly  that  when,  as  was  often  the  case,  his  violence  and 
brutality  fell  on  the  helpless,  Tom  took  notice  of  it ;  for  so 
subtle  is  the  atmosphere  of  opinion  that  it  will  make  itself 
felt  without  words  ;  and  the  opinion  even  of  a  slave  may 
annoy  a  master.  Tom  in  various  ways  manifested  a  tender 
ness  of  feeling,  a  commiseration  for  his  fellow  sufferers, 
strange  and  new  to  them,  which  was  watched  with  a  jealous 
eye  by  Legree.  He  had  purchased  Tom  with  a  view  of 
eventually  making  him  a  sort  of  overseer,  with  whom  he 
might  at  times  intrust  his  affairs  in  short  absences ;  and,  in 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  125 

his  view,  the  first,  second,  and  third  requisite  for  that  place 
was  hardness.  Legree  made  up  his  mind  that,  as  Tom  was 
not  hard  to  his  hand,  he  would  harden  him  forthwith  ;  and 
some  few  weeks  after  Tom  had  been  on  the  place,  he  deter 
mined  to  commence  the  process. 

One  morning  when  the  hands  were  mustered  for  the 
field,  Tom  noticed  with  surprise  a  newcomer  among  them, 
whose  appearance  excited  his  attention.  It  was  a  woman, 
tall  and  slenderly  formed,  with  remarkably  delicate  hands 
and  feet,  and  dressed  in  neat  and  respectable  garments.  By 
the  appearance  of  her  face,  she  might  have  been  between 
thirty-five  and  forty  ;  and  it  was  a  face  that  once  seen 
could  never  be  forgotten, — one  of  those  that,  at  a  glance,  seem 
to  convey  to  us  an  idea  of  a  wild,  painful,  and  romantic  his 
tory.  Her  forehead  was  high,  and  her  eyebrows  marked  with 
beautiful  clearness.  Her  straight,  well-formed  nose,  her 
finely  cut  mouth,  and  the  graceful  contour  of  her  head  and 
neck,  showed  that  she  must  once  have  been  beautiful ;  but 
her  face  was  deeply  wrinkled  with  lines  of  pain  and  of 
proud  and  bitter  endurance.  Her  complexion  was  sallow 
and  unhealthy,  her  cheeks  thin,  her  features  sharp,  and  her 
whole  form  emaciated.  But  her  eye  was  the  most  remark 
able  feature,  —  so  large,  so  heavily  black,  overshadowed  by 
long  lashes  of  equal  darkness,  and  so  wildly,  mournfully 
despairing.  There  was  a  fierce  pride  and  defiance  in  every 
line  of  her  face,  in  every  curve  of  the  flexible  lip,  in  every 
motion  of  her  body  ;  but  in  her  eye  was  a  deep,  settled 
night  of  anguish,  —  an  expression  so  hopeless  and  unchan 
ging  as  to  contrast  fearfully  with  the  scorn  and  pride  ex 
pressed  by  her  whole  demeanor. 

Where  she  came  from,  or  who  she  was,  Tom  did  not 
know.  The  first  he  did  know,  she  was  walking  by  his  side, 
erect  and  proud,  in  the  dim  gray  of  the  dawn.  To  the  gang, 
however,  she  was  known ;  for  there  was  much  looking  and 
turning  of  heads,  and  a  smothered  yet  apparent  exultation 


126  UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

among  the  miserable,  ragged,  half-starved  creatures  by  whom 
she  was  surrounded. 

"  Got  to  come  to  it,  at  last,  —  glad  of  it !  "  said  one. 

"  He  !  he  !  he  !  "  said  another  ;  "  you  '11  know  how  good 
it  is,  Misse  !  " 

"  We  '11  see  her  work  !  " 

"  Wonder  if  she  '11  get  a  cutting  up  at  night,  like  the 
rest  of  us  !  " 

"  I  'd  be  glad  to  see  her  down  for  a  flogging,  I  '11 
bound  !  "  said  another. 

The  woman  took  no  notice  of  these  taunts,  but  walked 
on,  with  the  same  expression  of  angry  scorn,  as  if  she  heard 
nothing.  Tom  had  always  lived  among  refined  and  culti 
vated  people,  and  he  felt  intuitively,  from  her  air  and  bear 
ing,  that  she  belonged  to  that  class ;  but  how  or  why  she 
could  be  fallen  to  these  degrading  circumstances,  he  could 
not  tell.  The  woman  neither  looked  at  him  nor  spoke  to  him, 
though,  all  the  way  to  the  field,  she  kept  close  at  his  side. 

Tom  was  soon  busy  at  his  work  ;  but,  as  the  woman  was 
at  no  great  distance  from  him,  he  often  glanced  an  eye  to 
her,  at  her  work.  He  saw,  at  a  glance,  that  a  native  adroit 
ness  and  handiness  made  the  task  to  her  an  easier  one  than 
it  proved  to  many.  She  picked  very  fast  and  very  clean, 
and  with  an  air  of  scorn,  as  if  she  despised  both  the  work 
and  the  disgrace  and  humiliation  of  the  circumstances  in 
which  she  was  placed. 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  Tom  was  working  near  the  mu 
latto  woman  who  had  been  bought  in  the  same  lot  with  him 
self.  She  was  evidently  in  a  condition  of  great  suffering, 
and  Tom  often  heard  her  praying,  as  she  wavered  and  trem 
bled,  and  seemed  about  to  fall  down.  Tom  silently,  as  he 
came  near  to  her,  transferred  several  handfuls  of  cotton  from 
his  own  sack  to  hers. 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't !  "  said  the  woman,  looking  surprised  ; 
"  it  '11  get  you  into  trouble." 


LIFE   AMONG   THE    LOWLY  127 

Just  then  Sambo  came  up.  He  seemed  to  have  a  special 
spite  against  this  woman  ;  and,  flourishing  his  whip,  said,  in 
brutal,  guttural  tones,  "  What  dis  yer,  Luce,  —  foolin'  a'  ?  " 
and,  with  the  word,  kicking  the  woman  with  his  heavy 
cowhide  shoe,  he  struck  Tom  across  the  face  with  his 
whip. 

Tom  silently  resumed  his  task  ;  but  the  woman,  before  at 
the  last  point  of  exhaustion,  fainted. 

"  I  '11  bring  her  to  !  "  said  the  driver,  with  a  brutal  grin. 
"  I  '11  give  her  something  better  than  camphire  !  "  and,  tak 
ing  a  pin  from  his  coat-sleeve,  he  buried  it  to  the  head  in 
her  flesh.  The  woman  groaned,  and  half  rose.  "  Get  up, 
you  beast,  and  work,  will  yer,  or  I'll  show  yer  a  trick 
more !  " 

The  woman  seemed  stimulated,  for  a  few  moments,  to  an 
unnatural  strength,  and  worked  with  desperate  eagerness. 

"  See  that  you  keep  to  dat  ar,"  said  the  man,  "  or 
yer  '11  wish  yer  's  dead  to-night,  I  reckin  !  " 

"  That  I  do  now  !  "  Tom  heard  her  say  ;  and  again  he 
heard  her  say,  "  0  Lord,  how  long !  0  Lord,  why  don't 
you  help  us  ?  " 

At  the  risk  of  all  that  he  might  suffer,  Tom  came  for 
ward  again,  and  put  all  the  cotton  in  his  sack  into  the 
woman's. 

"  Oh,  you  must  n't !  you  dunno  what  they  '11  do  to  ye  !  " 
said  the  woman. 

"  I  can  bar  it !  "  said  Tom,  "  better  'n  you  ;  "  and  he  was 
at  his  place  again.  It  passed  in  a  moment. 

Suddenly,  the  stranger  woman  whom  we  have  described, 
and  who  had,  in  the  course  of  her  work,  come  near  enough 
to  hear  Tom's  last  words,  raised  her  heavy  black  eyes,  and 
fixed  them,  for  a  second,  on  him  ;  then,  taking  a  quantity 
of  cotton  from  her  basket,  she  placed  it  in  his. 

"  You  know  nothing  about  this  place,"  she  said,  "  or 
you  would  n't  have  done  that.  When  you  've  been  here  a 


128  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

month,  you  '11  be  done  helping  anybody  ;  you  '11  find  it 
hard  enough  to  take  care  of  your  own  skin  !  " 

"  The  Lord  forbid,  Missis !  "  said  Tom,  using  instinc 
tively  to  his  field  companion  the  respectful  form  proper  to 
the  high-bred  with  whom  he  had  lived. 

"  The  Lord  never  visits  these  parts,"  said  the  woman 
bitterly,  as  she  went  nimbly  forward  with  her  work  ;  and 
again  the  scornful  smile  curled  her  lips. 

But  the  action  of  the  woman  had  been  seen  by  the 
driver,  across  the  field ;  and  flourishing  his  whip,  he  came 
up  to  her. 

"  What !  what  !  "  he  said  to  the  woman,  with  an  air  of 
triumph,  "  you  a-foolin'  ?  Go  along!  yer  under  me  now, 
—  mind  yourself,  or  yer  '11  cotch  it !  " 

A  glance  like  sheet  lightning  suddenly  flashed  from  those 
black  eyes ;  and,  facing  about,  with  quivering  lip  and 
dilated  nostrils,  she  drew  herself  up,  and  fixed  a  glance, 
blazing  with  rage  and  scorn,  on  the  driver. 

"  Dog !  "  she  said,  "  touch  me,  if  you  dare  !  I  've  power 
enough,  yet,  to  have  you  torn  by  the  dogs,  burnt  alive,  cut 
to  inches  !  I  've  only  to  say  the  word  !  " 

"  What  de  devil  you  here  for,  den  !  "  said  the  man,  evi 
dently  cowed,  and  sullenly  retreating  a  step  or  two. 
"  Did  n't  mean  no  harm,  Misse  Cassy  !  " 

"  Keep  your  distance,  then  !  "  said  the  woman.  And, 
in  truth,  the  man  seemed  greatly  inclined  to  attend  to 
something  at  the  other  end  of  the  field,  and  started  off  in 
quick  time. 

The  woman  suddenly  turned  to  her  work,  and  labored 
with  a  dispatch  that  was  perfectly  astonishing  to  Tom. 
She  seemed  to  work  by  magic.  Before  the  day  was 
through,  her  basket  was  filled,  crowded  down,  and  piled, 
and  she  had  several  times  put  largely  into  Tom's.  Long 
after  dusk,  the  whole  weary  train,  with  their  baskets  on 
their  heads,  defiled  up  to  the  building  appropriated  to  the 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  129 

storing  and  weighing  the  cotton.  Legree  was  there,  busily 
conversing  with  the  two  drivers. 

"  Dat  ar  Tom  's  gwine  to  make  a  powerful  deal  o'  trouble ; 
kept  a-puttin'  into  Lucy's  basket.  One  o'  these  yer  dat 
will  get  all  der  niggers  to  feelin?  'bused,  if  Mas'r  don't 
watch  him  !  "  said  Sambo. 

"Heydey!  The  black  cuss!"  said  Legree.  "  He  '11 
have  to  get  a  breakin'  in,  won't  he,  boys  ?  " 

Both  negroes  grinned  a  horrid  grin  at  this  intimation. 

"  Ay,  ay  !  let  Mas'r  Legree  alone,  for  breakin'  in  !  De 
debil  heself  could  n't  beat  Mas'r  at  dat !  "  said  Quimbo. 

"  Wai,  boys,  the  best  way  is  to  give  him  the  flogging  to 
do,  till  he  gets  over  his  notions.  Break  him  in  !  " 

"  Lord !  Mas'r  '11  have  hard  work  to  get  dat  out  o' 
him  !  " 

"It'll  have  to  come  out  of  him,  though  !  "  said  Legree, 
as  he  rolled  his  tobacco  in  his  mouth. 

"  Now,  dar  ?s  Lucy,  —  de  aggravatinest,  ugliest  wench 
on  de  place  !  "  pursued  Sambo. 

"  Take  care,  Sam  ;  I  shall  begin  to  think  what 's  the 
reason  for  your  spite  agin  Lucy." 

"  Well,  Mas'r  knows  she  sot  herself  up  agin  Mas'r,  and 
wouldn't  have  me,  when  he  telled  her  to." 

"  I  'd'a'  flogged  her  into  't,"  said  Legree,  spitting,  "  only 
there  's  such  a  press  o'  work  it  don't  seem  wuth  a  while  to 
upset  her  jist  now.  She 's  slender  ;  but  these  yer  slender 
gals  will  bear  half  killin'  to  get  their  own  way !  " 

"  Wai,  Lucy  was  real  aggravatin'  and  lazy,  sulkin' 
round  ;  would  n't  do  nothin',  —  and  Tom  he  tuck  up  for 
her." 

"  He  did,  eh  !  Wai,  then,  Tom  shall  have  the  pleasure 
of  flogging  her.  It  '11  be  a  good  practice  for  him,  and  he 
won't  put  it  on  to  the  gal  like  you  devils,  neither." 

"  Ho,  ho  !  haw  !  haw  !  haw  !  "  laughed  both  the  sooty 
wretches  ;  and  the  diabolical  sounds  seemed,  in  truth,  a 

VOL.  II. 


130  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

not  unapt  expression  of  the  fiendish  character  which  Legree 

gave  them. 

"  Wai,  but,  Mas'r,  Tom  and  Misse  Gassy,  and  dey  among 

'em,  filled  Lucy's  basket.     I  ruther  guess  der  weight 's  in 

it,  Mas'r ! » 

"  /  do  the  weighing  !  "  said  Legree  emphatically. 
Both  the  drivers  laughed  again  their  diabolical  laugh. 
"  So  !  "  he  added ;  "  Misse  Cassy  did  her  day's  work." 
"  She  picks  like  de  debil  and  all  his  angels !  " 
"  She  's  got  'em  all  in  her,  I  believe  !  "  said  Legree  ;  and 

growling  a  brutal  oath,  ho  proceeded  to  the  weighing-room. 

Slowly  the  weary,  dispirited  creatures  wound  their  way 
into  the  room,  and,  with  crouching  reluctance,  presented 
their  baskets  to  be  weighed. 

Legree  noted  on  a  slate,  on  the  side  of  which  was  pasted 
a  list  of  names,  the  amount. 

Tom's  basket  was  weighed  and  approved  ;  and  he  looked, 
with  an  anxious  glance,  for  the  success  of  the  woman  he 
had  befriended. 

Tottering  with  weakness,  she  came  forward,  and  deliv 
ered  her  basket.  It  was  of  full  weight,  as  Legree  well  per 
ceived  ;  but,  affecting  anger,  he  said,  — 

"  What,  you  lazy  beast !  short  again  !  stand  aside,  you  '11 
catch  it,  pretty  soon  !  " 

The  woman  gave  a  groan  of  utter  despair,  and  sat  down 
on  a  board. 

The  person  who  had  been  called  Misse  Cassy  now  came 
forward,  and,  with  a  haughty,  negligent  air,  delivered  her 
basket.  As  she  delivered  it,  Legree  looked  in  her  eyes 
with  a  sneering  yet  inquiring  glance. 

She  fixed  her  black  eyes  steadily  on  him,  her  lips  moved 
slightly,  and  she  said  something  in  French.  What  it  was, 
no  one  knew  ;  but  Legree's  face  became  perfectly  demoniacal 
in  its  expression  as  she  spoke ;  he  half  raised  his  hand  as 


LIFE    AMONG   THE   LOWLY  131 

if  to  strike,  —  a  gesture  which  she  regarded  with  fierce  dis 
dain,  as  she  turned  and  walked  away. 

"  And  now,"  said  Legree,  "  come  here,  you  Tom.  You 
see,  I  telled  ye  I  did  n't  buy  ye  jest  for  the  common  work  ; 
I  mean  to  promote  ye,  and  make  a  driver  of  ye ;  and  to 
night  ye  may  jest  as  well  begin  to  get  yer  hand  in.  Now, 
ye  jest  take  this  yer  gal  and  flog  her ;  ye  've  seen  enough 
on  't  to  know  how." 

"  I  beg  Mas'r' s  pardon,"  said  Tom  ;  "  hopes  Mas'r  won't 
set  me  at  that.  It  's  what  I  ain't  used  to,  —  never  did,  — 
and  can't  do,  noway  possible." 

"Ye '11  larn  a  pretty  smart  chance  of  things  ye  never  did 
know  before  I  ?ve  done  with  ye  ! "  said  Legree,  taking  up 
a  cowhide,  and  striking  Tom  a  heavy  blow  across  the  cheek, 
and  following  up  the  infliction  by  a  shower  of  blows. 

"  There !  "  he  said,  as  he  stopped  to  rest ;  "  now  will  ye 
tell  me  ye  can't  do  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mas'r,"  said  Tom,  putting  up  his  hand,  to  wipe 
the  blood  that  trickled  down  his  face.  "  I  'm  willin'  to 
work  night  and  day,  and  work  while  there  's  life  and  breath 
in  me  ;  but  this  yer  thing  I  can't  feel  it  right  to  do  ;  and, 
Mas'r,  I  never  shall  do  it,  —  never  !  " 

Tom  had  a  remarkably  smooth,  soft  voice,  and  a  habitu 
ally  respectful  manner,  that  had  given  Legree  an  idea  that 
he  would  be  cowardly,  and  easily  subdued.  When  he  spoke 
these  last  words,  a  thrill  of  amazement  went  through  every 
one ;  the  poor  woman  clasped  her  hands,  and  said,  "  0 
Lord  !  "  and  every  one  involuntarily  looked  at  each  other, 
and  drew  in  their  breath,  as  if  to  prepare  for  the  storm  that 
was  about  to  burst. 

Legree  looked  stupefied  and  confounded  ;  but  at  last  burst 
forth,  — 

"  What !  ye  blasted  black  beast !  tell  me  ye  don't  think 
it  right  to  do  what  I  tell  ye !  What  have  any  of  you  cussed 
cattle  to  do  with  thinking  what 's  right  ?  I  '11  put  a  stop 


132  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

to  it !  Why,  what  do  ye  think  ye  are  ?  Maybe  ye  think 
ye  're  a  gentleman,  master  Tom,  to  be  a-telling  your  master 
what 's  right  and  what  ain't  !  So  you  pretend  it 's  wrong 
to  flog  the  gal !  " 

"  I  think  so,  Mas'r,"  said  Tom ;  "  the  poor  crittur  's  sick 
and  feeble ;  't  would  be  downright  cruel,  and  it 's  what  I 
never  will  do,  nor  begin  to.  Mas'r,  if  you  mean  to  kill  me, 
kill  me ;  but,  as  to  my  raising  my  hand  agin  any  one  here, 
I  never  shall,  —I  '11  die  first !  " 

Tom  spoke  in  a  mild  voice,  but  with  a  decision  that  could 
not  be  mistaken.  Legree  shook  with  anger;  his  greenish 
eyes  glared  fiercely,  and  his  very  whiskers  seemed  to  curl 
with  passion ;  but,  like  some  ferocious  beast,  that  plays  with 
its  victim  before  he  devours  it,  he  kept  back  his  strong 
impulse  to  proceed  to  immediate  violence,  and  broke  out 
into  bitter  raillery. 

"Well,  here's  a  pious  dog,  at  last,  let  down  among  us 
sinners  !  —  a  saint,  a  gentleman,  and  no  less,  to  talk  to  us 
sinners  about  our  sins  !  Powerful  holy  crittur,  he  must  be  ! 
Here,  you  rascal,  you  make  believe  to  be  so  pious,  —  did  n't 
you  never  hear  out  of  yer  Bible,  '  Servants,  obey  yer  mas 
ters  '  ?  Ain't  I  yer  master  ?  Did  n't  I  pay  down  twelve 
hundred  dollars,  cash,  for  all  there  is  inside  yer  old  cussed 
black  shell  ?  Ain't  yer  mine,  now,  body  and  soul  ?  "  he 
said,  giving  Tom  a  violent  kick  with  his  heavy  boot ;  "  tell 
me!" 

In  the  very  depth  of  physical  suffering,  bowed  by  brutal 
oppression,  this  question  shot  a  gleam  of  joy  and  triumph 
through  Tom's  soul.  He  suddenly  stretched  himself  up, 
and,  looking  earnestly  to  heaven,  while  the  tears  and  blood 
that  flowed  down  his  face  mingled,  he  exclaimed,  — 

"  No  !  no  !  no !  my  soul '  ain't  yours,  Mas'r !  You 
have  n't  brought  it,  —  ye  can't  buy  it !  It 's  been  bought 
and  paid  for,  by  one  that  is  able  to  keep  it.  No  matter, 
no  matter,  you  can't  harm  me  !  " 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  133 

"  I  can't !  "  said  Legree,  with  a  sneer  ;  "we  '11  see,  — 
we  '11  see  !  Here,  Sambo,  Quimbo,  give  this  dog  such  a 
breakin'  in  as  he  won't  get  over  this  month !  " 

The  two  gigantic  negroes  that  now  laid  hold  of  Tom, 
with  fiendish  exultation  in  their  faces,  might  have  formed  no 
unapt  personification  of  the  powers  of  darkness.  The  poor 
woman  screamed  with  apprehension,  and  all  rose,  as  by  a 
general  impulse,  while  they  dragged  him  unresisting  from 
the  place. 


134  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE  QUADROON'S  STORY 

"  And,  behold,  the  tears  of  such  as  arc  oppressed  ;  and  on  the  side  of 
their  oppressors  there  was  power.  Wherefore  I  praised  the  dead  that  are 
already  dead  more  than  the  living  that  are  yet  alive."  —  Eccl.  iv.  1 

IT  was  late  at  night,  and  Tom  lay  groaning  and  bleeding 
alone,  in  an  old  forsaken  room  of  the  gin-house,  among 
pieces  of  broken  machinery,  piles  of  damaged  cotton,  and 
other  rubbish  "which,  had  there  accumulated. 

The  night  was  damp  and  close,  and  the  thick  air 
swarmed  with  myriads  of  mosquitoes,  which  increased  the 
restless  torture  of  his  wounds  ;  whilst  a  burning  thirst  —  a 
torture  beyond  all  others  —  filled  up  the  uttermost  mea 
sure  of  physical  anguish. 

"  0  good  Lord !  Do  look  down,  —  give  me  the  vic 
tory  ! —  give  me  the  victory  over  all!  "  prayed  poor  Tom, 
in  his  anguish. 

A  footstep  entered  the  room  behind  him,  and  the  light 
of  a  lantern  flashed  on  his  eyes. 

"  Who  's  there  ?  Oh,  for  the  Lord's  massy,  please  give 
me  some  water  !  " 

The  woman  Gassy  —  for  it  was  she  —  set  down  her  lan 
tern,  and,  pouring  water  from  a  bottle,  raised  his  head,  and 
gave  him  drink.  Another  and  another  cup  were  drained, 
with  feverish  eagerness.  * 

"  Drink  all  ye  want,"  she  said ;  "  I  knew  how  it  would 
be.  It  is  n't  the  first  time  I  've  been  out  in  the  night, 
carrying  water  to  such  as  you." 

u  Thank  you,  Missis,"  said  Tom,  when  he  had  done 
drinking. 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  135 

"  Don't  call  me  Missis  !  I  'm  a  miserable  slave,  like  your 
self,  —  a  lower  one  than  you  can  ever  be ! "  said  she 
bitterly ;  "  but  now,"  said  she,  going  to  the  door,  and 
dragging  in  a  small  paillasse,  over  which  she  had  spread 
linen  cloths  wet  with  cold  water,  "  try,  my  poor  fellow,  to 
roll  yourself  on  to  this." 

Stiff  with  wounds  and  bruises,  Tom  was  a  long  time  in 
accomplishing  this  movement ;  but,  when  done,  he  felt  a 
sensible  relief  from  the  cooling  application  to  his  wounds. 

The  woman,  whom  long  practice  with  the  victims  of 
brutality  had  made  familiar  with  many  healing  arts,  went 
on  to  make  many  applications  to  Tom's  wounds,  by  means 
of  which  he  was  soon  somewhat  relieved. 

"  !Now,"  said  the  woman,  when  she  had  raised  his  head 
on  a  roll  of  damaged  cotton,  which  served  for  a  pillow, 
"  there  's  the  best  I  can  do  for  you." 

Tom  thanked  her ;  and  the  woman,  sitting  down  on  the 
floor,  drew  up  her  knees,  and,  embracing  them  with  her 
arms,  looked  fixedly  before  her,  with  a  bitter  and  painful 
expression  of  countenance.  Her  bonnet  fell  back,  and  long 
wavy  streams  of  black  hair  fell  around  her  singular  and 
melancholy  face. 

"  It 's  no  use,  my  poor  fellow  !  "  she  broke  out  at  last ; 
"  it 's  of  no  use,  this  you  've  been  trying  to  do.  You  were 
a  brave  fellow,  —  you  had  the  right  on  your  side  ;  but  it 's 
all  in  vain,  and  out  of  the  question,  for  you  to  struggle. 
You  are  in  the  devil's  hands.  He  is  the  strongest,  and  you 
must  give  up !  " 

Give  up !  and  had  not  human  weakness  and  physical 
agony  whispered  that  before  ?  Tom  started ;  for  the  bitter 
woman,  with  her  wild  eyes  and  melancholy  voice,  seemed- 
to  him  an  embodiment  of  the  temptation  with  which  he 
had  been  wrestling. 

"  0  Lord !  O  Lord !  "  he  groaned ;  "  how  can  I  give 
up?" 


136  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"  There  's  no  use  calling  on  the  Lord,  —  he  never  hears/' 
said  the  woman  steadily  ;  "  there  is  n't  any  God,  I  believe  ; 
or,  if  there  is,  he 's  taken  sides  against  us.  All  goes  against 
us,  heaven  and  earth.  Everything  is  pushing  us  into  hell. 
Why  should  n't  we  go  ?  " 

Tom  closed  his  eyes,  and  shuddered  at  the  dark  atheistic 
words. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  woman,  "  you  don't  know  anything 
about  it ;  —  I  do.  I  've  been  on  this  place  five  years,  body 
and  soul,  under  this  man's  foot ;  and  I  hate  him  as  I  do  the 
devil !  Here  you  are,  on  a  lone  plantation,  ten  miles  from 
any  other,  in  the  swamps  ;  not  a  white  person  here,  who 
could  testify,  if  you  were  burned  alive,  —  if  you  were  scalded, 
cut  into  inch  pieces,  set  up  for  the  dogs  to  tear,  or  hung  up 
and  whipped  to  death.  There  's  no  law  here,  of  God  or  man, 
that  can  do  you,  or  any  one  of  us,  the  least  good  ;  and,  this 
man  !  there 's  no  earthly  thing  that  he  's  too  good  to  do.  I 
could  make  any  one's  hair  rise,  and  their  teeth  chatter,  if  I 
should  only  tell  what  I  've  seen  and  been  knowing  to  here, 
and  it 's  no  use  resisting  !  Did  I  want  to  live  with  him  ? 
Was  n't  I  a  woman  delicately  bred ;  and  he  —  God  in  heaven  ! 
what  was  he,  and  is  he  ?  And  yet  I  've  lived  with  him 
these  five  years,  and  cursed  every  moment  of  my  life,  — 
night  and  day  !  And  now,  he  's  got  a  new  one,  —  a  young 
thing,  only  fifteen,  and  she  brought  up,  she  says,  piously. 
Her  good  mistress  taught  her  to  read  the  Bible ;  and  she  's 
brought  her  Bible  here  —  to  hell  —  with  her  !  "  and  the  wo 
man  laughed  a  wild  and  doleful  laugh,  that  rung,  with  a 
strange,  supernatural  sound,  through  the  old  ruined  shed. 

Tom  folded  his  hands  ;  all  was  darkness  and  horror. 

"  0  Jesus !  Lord  Jesus !  have  you  quite  forgot  us  poor 
critturs  ?  "  burst  forth,  at  last.  "  Help,  Lord,  I  perish  !  " 

The  woman  sternly  continued  :  — 

"  And  what  are  these  miserable  low  dogs  you  work  with, 
that  you  should  suffer  on  their  account  ?  Every  one  of  them 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  137 

would  turn  against  you  the  first  time  they  got  a  chance. 
They  are  all  of  'em  as  low  and  cruel  to  each  other  as  they 
can  be  ;  there  's  no  use  in  your  suffering  to  keep  from  hurt 
ing  them." 

"  Poor  critturs  !  "  said  Tom,  —  "  what  made  'em  cruel  ? 
—  and,  if  I  give  out,  I  shall  get  used  to  't,  and  grow,  little 
by  little,  just  like  'em  !  No,  no,  Missis  !  I've  lost  every 
thing,  —  wife,  and  children,  and  home,  and  a  kind  Mas'r,  — 
and  he  would  have  set  me  free,  if  he  'd  only  lived  a  week 
longer ;  I  've  lost  everything  in  this  world,  and  it 's  clean 
gone,  forever,  —  and  now  I  can't  lose  heaven,  too  ;  no,  I 
can't  get  to  be  wicked,  besides  all ! " 

"  But  it  can't  be  that  the  Lord  will  lay  sin  to  our  ac 
count,"  said  the  woman  j  "  he  won't  charge  it  to  us,  when 
we  're  forced  to  it ;  he  '11  charge  it  to  them  that  drove  us 
to  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  that  won't  keep  us  from  growing 
wicked.  If  I  get  to  be  as  hard-hearted  as  that  ar  Sambo, 
and  as  wicked,  it  won't  make  much  odds  to  me  how  I  come 
so  ;  it 's  the  bein'  so,  —  that  ar 's  what  I  '111  a-dreadin'." 

The  woman  fixed  a  wild  and  startled  look  on  Tom,  as  if 
a  new  thought  had  struck  her ;  and  then  heavily  groaning, 
said,  — 

"  0  God  'a'  mercy  !  you  speak  the  truth  !  Oh  !  —  Oh  ! 
Oh  !  "  —  and,  with  groans,  she  fell  on  the  floor,  like  one 
crushed  and  writhing  under  the  extremity  of  mental  anguish. 

There  was  a  silence  awhile,  in  which  the  breathing  of 
both  parties  could  be  heard,  when  Tom  faintly  said,  "  Oh, 
please,  Missis ! " 

The  woman  suddenly  rose  up,  with  her  face  composed  to 
its  usual  stern,  melancholy  expression. 

"  Please,  Missis,  I  saw  'em  throw  my  coat  in  that  ar 
corner,  and  in  my  coat-pocket  is  my  Bible ;  —  if  Missis 
would  please  get  it  for  me." 

Gassy  went  and  got  it.     Torn  opened  at  once  to  a  heavily 


138  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  :    OR 


marked  passage,  much  worn,  of  the  last  scenes  in  the  life  of 
Him  by  whose  stripes  we  are  healed. 

"  If  Missis  would  only  be  so  good  as  read  that  ar,  —  it 's 
better  than  water." 

Gassy  took  the  book,  with  a  dry,  proud  air,  and  looked 
over  the  passage.  She  then  read  aloud,  in  a  soft  voice,  and 
with  a  beauty  of  intonation  that  was  peculiar,  that  touching 
account  of  anguish  and  of  glory.  Often,  as  she  read,  her 
voice  faltered,  and  sometimes  failed  her  altogether,  when  she 
would  stop,  with  an  air  of  frigid  composure,  till  she  had 
mastered  herself.  When  she  came  to  the  touching  words, 
"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do," 
she  threw  down  the  book,  and  burying  her  face  in  the  heavy 
masses  of  her  hair,  she  sobbed  aloud,  with  a  convulsive  vio 
lence. 

Tom  was  weeping,  also,  and  occasionally  uttering  a  smoth 
ered  ejaculation. 

"  If  we  only  could  keep  up  to  that  ar !  "  said  Tom  ;  — 
"  it  seemed  to  come  so  natural  to  him,  and  we  have  to  fight 
so  hard  for  't !  0  Lord,  help  us  !  0  blessed  Lord  Jesus, 
do  help  us  !  " 

"  Missis,"  said  Tom,  after  a  while,  "  I  can  see  that  some 
how  you  're  quite  'bove  me  in  everything ;  but  there  's  one 
thing  Missis  might  learn  even  from  poor  Tom.  Ye  said  the 
Lord  took  sides  against  us,  because  he  lets  us  be  'bused 
and  knocked  round  ;  but  ye  see  what  come  on  his  own  Son, 

—  the  blessed  Lord  of  Glory,  —  warn't  he  allays  poor  ?  and 
have  we,  any  on  us,  yet  come  so  low  as  he  come  ?     The 
Lord  hain't  forgot  us,  —  I  'm  sartin  o'  that  ar.      If  we  suffer 
with  him,  we  shall  also  reign,   Scripture    says  ;  but,  if  we 
deny  him,  he  also  will  deny  us.     Did  n't  they  all  suffer  ? 

—  the  Lord  and  all  his  ?     It  tells  how  they  was  stoned  and 
sawn  asunder,  and  wandered  about  in  sheepskins  and  goat 
skins,  and  was  destitute,  afflicted,  tormented.     Sufferin'  ain't 
no  reason  to  make  us  think  the  Lord 's  turned  agin  us ;  but 


LIFE   AMONG   THE    LOWLY  139 

jest  the  contrary,  if  only  we  hold  on  to  him,  and  does  n't  give 
up  to  sin." 

"  But  why  does  he  put  us  where  we  can't  help  but  sin  ?  " 
said  the  woman. 

"  I  think  we  can  help  it,"  said  Tom. 

"You'll  see,'7  said  Gassy.  "What '11  you  do?  To 
morrow  they  '11  be  at  you  again.  I  know  'em  ;  I  ?ve  seen 
all  their  doings  ;  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  all  they  '11  bring 
you  to  ;  —  and  they  '11  make  you  give  out  at  last !  " 

"  Lord  Jesus !  "  said  Tom,  "  you  will  take  care  of  my 
soul  ?  0  Lord,  do  !  —  don't  let  me  give  out !  " 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  said  Cassy  ;  "  I  've  heard  all  this  crying 
and  praying  before  ;  and  yet  they  've  been  broken  down, 
and  brought  under.  There  's  Emmeline,  she  's  trying  to 
hold  on,  and  you  're  trying,  —  but  what  use  ?  You  must 
give  up  or  be  killed  by  inches." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  die  !  "  said  Tom.  "  Spin  it  out  as 
long  as  they  can,  they  can't  help  my  dying,  some  time !  — 
and,  after  that,  they  can't  do  no  more.  I  'm  clar,  I  'm  set ! 
I  know  the  Lord  '11  help  me,  and  bring  me  through." 

The  woman  did  not  answer ;  she  sat  with  her  black  eyes 
intently  fixed  on  the  floor. 

"  Maybe  it 's  the  way,"  she  murmured  to  herself  ;  "  but 
those  that  have  given  up,  there 's  no  hope  for  them  !  — 
none  !  We  live  in  filth,  and  grow  loathsome,  till  we  loathe 
ourselves  !  And  we  long  to  die,  and  we  don't  dare  to  kill 
ourselves  !  —  No  hope  !  no  hope  !  no  hope  !  —  this  girl 
now,  — just  as  old  as  I  was  !  " 

"  You  see  me  IIOWT,"  she  said,  speaking  to  Tom  very 
rapidly  ;  "  see  what  I  am  !  Well,  I  was  brought  up  in 
luxury ;  the  first  I  remember  is  playing  about,  when  I  was 
a  child,  in  splendid  parlors  ;  —  when  I  was  kept  dressed  up 
like  a  doll,  and  company  and  visitors  used  to  praise  me. 
There  was  a  garden  opening  from  the  saloon  windows  ;  and 
there  I  used  to  play  hide-and-go-seek  under  the  orange-trees 


140  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

with  my  brothers  and  sisters.  I  went  to  a  convent,  and 
there  I  learned  music,  French,  and  embroidery,  and  what 
not ;  and  when  I  was  fourteen  I  came  out  to  my  father's 
funeral.  He  died  very  suddenly,  and  when  the  property 
came  to  be  settled,  they  found  that  there  was  scarcely 
enough  to  cover  the  debts  ;  and  when  the  creditors  took  an 
inventory  of  the  property,  I  was  set  down  in  it.  My  mother 
was  a  slave  woman,  and  my  father  had  always  meant  to  set 
me  free  ;  but  he  had  not  done  it,  and  so  I  was  set  down  in 
the  list.  I  ?d  always  known  who  I  was,  but  never  thought 
much  about  it.  Nobody  ever  expects  that  a  strong,  healthy 
man  is  a-going  to  die.  My  father  was  a  well  man  only  four 
hours  before  he  died ;  —  it  was  one  of  the  first  cholera  cases 
in  New  Orleans.  The  day  after  the  funeral,  my  father's 
wife  took  her  children  and  went  up  to  her  father's  plantation. 
I  thought  they  treated  me  strangely,  but  did  n't  know. 
There  was  a  young  lawyer  whom  they  left  to  settle  the 
business  ;  and  he  came  every  day  and  was  about  the  house, 
and  spoke  very  politely  to  me.  He  brought  with  him  one 
day  a  young  man  whom  I  thought  the  handsomest  I  had 
ever  seen.  I  shall  never  forget  that  evening.  I  walked 
with  him  in  the  garden.  I  was  lonesome  and  full  of  sorrow, 
and  he  was  so  kind  and  gentle  to  me  ;  and  he  told  me  that 
he  had  seen  me  before  I  went  to  the  convent,  and  that  he 
had  loved  me  a  great  while,  and  that  he  would  be  my  friend 
and  protector  ;  —  in  short,  though  he  did  n't  tell  me,  he  had 
paid  two  thousand  dollars  for  me,  and  I  was  his  property. 
I  became  his  willingly,  for  I  loved  him.  Loved  !  "  —  said 
the  woman  stopping,  —  "  oh,  how  I  did  love  that  man  ! 
How  I  love  him  now,  —  and  always  shall  while  I  breathe  ! 
He  was  so  beautiful,  so  high,  so  noble  !  He  put  me  into 
a  beautiful  house  with  servants,  horses,  and  carriages,  and 
furniture,  and  dresses.  Everything  that  money  could  buy 
he  gave  me  ;  but  I  did  n't  set  any  value  on  all  that,  —  I  only 
cared  for  him.  I  loved  him  better  than  my  God  and  my 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  141 

own  soul ;   and  if   I    tried,  I  could  n't  do  any  other  way 
from  what  he  wanted  me  to. 

"  I  wanted  only  one  thing,  —  I  did  want  him  to  marry 
me.  I  thought  if  he  loved  me  as  he  said  he  did,  and  if  I 
was  what  he  seemed  to  think  I  was,  he  would  be  willing 
to  marry  me  and  set  me  free.  But  he  convinced  me  that 
it  would  be  impossible  ;  and  he  told  me  that,  if  we  were 
only  faithful  to  each  other,  it  was  marriage  before  God.  If 
that  is  true,  was  n't  I  that  man's  wife  ?  Wasn't  I  faith 
ful  ?  For  seven  years  did  n't  I  study  every  look  and  mo 
tion,  and  only  live  and  breathe  to  please  him  ?  He  had 
the  yellow  fever,  and  for  twenty  days  and  nights  I  watched 
with  him.  I  alone,  —  and  gave  him  all  his  medicine,  and 
did  everything  for  him  5  and  then  he  called  me  his  good 
angel,  and  said  I  'd  saved  his  life.  We  had  two  beautiful 
children.  The  first  was  a  boy,  and  we  called  him  Henry. 
He  was  the  image  of  his  father,  —  he  had  such  beautiful 
eyes,  such  a  forehead,  and  his  hair  hung  all  in  curls  around 
it ;  and  he  had  all  his  father's  spirit,  and  his  talent,  too. 
Little  Elise,  he  said,  looked  like  me.  He  used  to  tell  me 
that  I  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Louisiana,  he  was 
so  proud  of  me  and  the  children.  He  used  to  love  to  have 
me  dress  them  up,  and  take  them  and  me  about  in  an  open 
carriage,  and  hear  the  remarks  that  people  would  make  on 
us ;  and  he  used  to  fill  my  ears  constantly  with  the  fine 
things  that  were  said  in  praise  of  me  and  the  children.  Oh, 
those  were  happy  days !  I  thought  I  was  as  happy  as  any 
one  could  be ;  but  then  there  came  evil  times.  He  had  a 
cousin  come  to  New  Orleans,  who  was  his  particular  friend, 
—  he  thought  all  the  world  of  him ;  —  but,  from  the  first 
time  I  saw  him,  I  could  n't  tell  why,  I  dreaded  him ;  for 
I  felt  sure  he  was  going  to  bring  misery  on  us.  He  got 
Henry  to  going  out  with  him,  and  often  he  would  not  come 
home  nights  till  two  or  three  o'clock.  I  did  not  dare  say 
a  word ;  for  Henry  was  so  high-spirited  I  was  afraid  to. 


142  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 

He  got  him  to  the  gaming-houses  ;  and  he  was  one  of  the 
sort  that,  when  he  once  got  a-going  there,  there  was  no  hold 
ing  back.  And  then  he  introduced  him  to  another  lady, 
and  I  saw  soon  that  his  heart  was  gone  from  me.  He  never 
told  me,  hut  I  saw  it,  —  I  knew  it,  day  after  day,  —  I  felt 
my  heart  breaking,  but  I  could  not  say  a  word  !  At  this, 
the  wretch  offered  to  buy  me  and  the  children  of  Henry,  to 
clear  off  his  gambling  debts,  which  stood  in  the  way  of  his 
marrying  as  he  wished ;  —  and  he  sold  us.  He  told  me, 
one  day,  that  he  had  business  in  the  country,  and  should 
be  gone  two  or  three  weeks.  He  spoke  kinder  than  usual, 
and  said  he  should  come  back  ;  but  it  did  n't  deceive  me. 
I  knew  that  the  time  had  come.  I  was  just  like  one  turned 
into  stone  ;  I  could  n't  speak,  nor  shed  a  tear.  He  kissed 
me  and  kissed  the  children,  a  good  many  times,  and  went 
out.  I  saw  him  get  on  his  horse,  and  I  watched  him  till 
he  was  quite  out  of  sight ;  and  then  I  fell  down,  and 
fainted. 

"Then  he  came,  the  cursed  wretch!  —  he  came  to  take 
possession.  He  told  me  that  he  had  bought  me  and  my 
children  ;  and  showed  me  the  papers.  I  cursed  him  before 
God,  and  told  him  I  'd  die  sooner  than  live  with  him. 

" ( Just  as  you  please,'  said  he ;  '  but  if  you  don't 
behave  reasonably,  I  '11  sell  both  the  children,  where  you 
shall  never  see  them  again.'  He  told  me  that  he  always 
had  meant  to  have  me,  from  the  first  time  he  saw  me ;  and 
that  he  had  drawn  Henry  on,  and  got  him  in  debt,  on  pur 
pose  to  make  him  willing  to  sell  me.  That  he  got  him  in 
love  with  another  woman  ;  and  that  I  might  know,  after 
all  that,  that  he  should  not  give  up  for  a  few  airs  and  tears, 
and  things  of  that  sort. 

"  I  gave  up,  for  my  hands  were  tied.  He  had  my  chil 
dren  j  —  whenever  I  resisted  his  will  anywhere,  he  would 
talk  about  selling  them,  and  he  made  me  as  submissive  as 
he  desired.  Oh,  what  a  life  it  was !  to  live  with  my  heart 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  143 

breaking  every  day,  —  to  keep  on,  on,  on,  loving,  when  it 
was  only  misery  ;  and  to  be  bound,  body  and  soul,  to  one 
I  hated.  I  used  to  love  to  read  to  Henry,  to  play  to  him, 
to  waltz  with  him,  and  sing  to  him  ;  but  everything  I  did 
for  this  one  was  a  perfect  drag,  —  yet  I  was  afraid  to  refuse 
anything.  He  was  very  imperious,  and  harsh  to  the  children. 
Elise  was  a  timid  little  thing  ;  but  Henry  was  bold  and  high- 
spirited,  like  his  father,  and  he  had  never  been  brought 
under,  in  the  least,  by  any  one.  He  was  always  finding  fault, 
and  quarreling  with  him  ;  arid  I  used  to  live  in  daily  fear 
and  dread.  I  tried  to  make  the  child  respectful ;  —  I  tried  to 
keep  them  apart,  for  I  held  on  to  those  children  like  death ; 
but  it  did  no  good.  He  sold  both  those  children.  He  took 
me  to  ride  one  day,  and  when  I  came  home  they  were 
nowhere  to  be  found !  He  told  me  he  had  sold  them ;  he 
showed  me  the  money,  the  price  of  their  blood.  Then  it 
seemed  as  if  all  good  forsook  me.  I  raved  and  cursed,  — 
cursed  God  and  man  ;  and  for  a  while,  I  believe,  he  really 
was  afraid  of  me.  But  he  did  n't  give  up  so.  He  told  me 
that  my  children  were  sold,  but  whether  I  ever  saw  their 
faces  again  depended  on  him  ;  and  that,  if  I  was  n't  quiet, 
they  should  smart  for  it.  Well,  you  can  do  anything  with  a 
woman  when  you  've  got  her  children.  He  made  me  submit ; 
he  made  me  be  peaceable  ;  he  nattered  me  with  hopes  that 
perhaps  he  would  buy  them  back  ;  and  so  things  went  on,  a 
week  or  two.  One  day,  I  was  out  walking,  and  passed  by 
the  calaboose  ;  -I  saw  a  crowd  about  the  gate,  and  heard  a 
child's  voice,  —  and  suddenly  my  Henry  broke  away  from 
two  or  three  men  who  were  holding  him,  and  ran,  screaming, 
and  caught  my  dress.  They  came  up  to  him,  swearing  dread 
fully  ;  and  one  man,  whose  face  I  shall  never  forget,  told 
him  that  he  would  n't  get  away  so ;  that  he  was  going  with 
him  into  the  calaboose,  and  he  'd  get  a  lesson  there  he  7d 
never  forget.  I  tried  to  beg  and  plead,  —  they  only  laughed  ; 
the  poor  boy  screamed  and  looked  into  my  face  and  held  on 


144  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 

to  me,  until,  in  tearing  him  off,  they  tore  the  skirt  of  my 
dress  half  away  ;  and  they  carried  him  in,  screaming  '  Mo 
ther  !  mother  !  mother ! '  There  was  one  man  stood  there 
seemed  to  pity  me.  I  offered  him  all  the  money  I  had  if 
he  'd  only  interfere.  He  shook  his  head,  and  said  that  the 
man  said  the  boy  had  been  impudent  and  disobedient  ever 
since  he  bought  him ;  that  he  was  going  to  break  him  in, 
once  for  all.  I  turned  and  ran ;  and  every  step  of  the  way 
I  thought  that  I  heard  him  scream.  I  got  into  the  house  ; 
ran,  all  out  of  breath,  to  the  parlor,  where  I  found  Butler. 
I  told  him,  and  begged  him  to  go  and  interfere.  He  only 
laughed,  and  told  me  the  boy  had  got  his  deserts.  He  'd 
got  to  be  broken  in,  —  the  sooner  the  better  ;  '  what  did  I 
expect  ?  '  he  asked. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  something  in  my  head  snapped  at  that 
moment.  I  felt  dizzy  and  furious.  I  remember  seeing  a 
great  sharp  bowie-knife  on  the  table  ;  I  remember  something 
about  catching  it,  and  flying  upon  him ;  and  then  all  grew 
dark,  and  I  didn't  know  any  more  —  not  for  days  and 
days. 

"  When  I  came  to  myself,  I  was  in  a  nice  room,  —  but 
not  mine.  An  old  black  woman  tended  me ;  and  a  doctor 
came  to  see  me,  and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  care  taken  of 
me.  After  a  while,  I  found  that  he  had  gone  away,  and 
left  me  at  this  house  to  be  sold  ;  and  that  7s  why  they  took 
such  pains  with  me. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  to  get  well,  and  hoped  I  should  n't ; 
but,  in  spite  of  me,  the  fever  went  off,  and  I  grew  healthy, 
and  finally  got  up.  Then,  they  made  me  dress  up  every 
day  ;  and  gentlemen  used  to  come  in  and  stand  and  smoke 
their  cigars,  and  look  at  me,  and  ask  questions,  and  debate 
my  price.  I  was  so  gloomy  and  silent  that  none  of  them 
wanted  me.  They  threatened  to  whip  me,  if  I  was  n't  gayer, 
and  did  n't  take  some  pains  to  make  myself  agreeable.  At 
length,  one  day,  came  a  gentleman  named  Stuart.  He 


LIFE   AMONG   THE    LOWLY  145 

seemed  to  have  some  feeling  for  me ;  he  saw  that  something 
dreadful  was  on  my  heart,  and  he  came  to  see  me  alone  a 
great  many  times,  and  finally  persuaded  me  to  tell  him. 
He  bought  me  at  last,  and  promised  to  do  all  he  could  to  find 
and  buy  back  my  children.  He  went  to  the  hotel  where  my 
Henry  was  ;  they  told  him  he  had  been  sold  to  a  planter  up 
on  Pearl  River  ;  that  was  the  last  that  I  ever  heard.  Then 
he  found  where  my  daughter  was ;  an  old  woman  was  keep 
ing  her.  He  offered  an  immense  sum  for  her,  but  they 
would  not  sell  her.  Butler  found  out  that  it  was  for  me 
he  wanted  her ;  and  he  sent  me  word  that  I  should  never 
have  her.  Captain  Stuart  was  very  kind  to  me  ;  he  had 
a  splendid  plantation,  and  took  me  to  it.  In  the  course 
of  a  year,  I  had  a  son  born.  Oh,  that  child  !  —  how  I  loved 
it !  How  just  like  my  poor  Henry  the  little  thing  looked  ! 
But  I  had  made  up  my  mind,  —  yes,  I  had.  I  would  never 
again  let  a  child  live  to  grow  up  !  I  took  the  little  fellow 
in  my  arms,  when  he  was  two  week  sold,  and  kissed  him, 
and  cried  over  him  ;  and  then  I  gave  him  laudanum,  and 
held  him  close  to  my  bosom,  while  he  slept  to  death.  How 
I  mourned  and  cried  over  it !  and  who  ever  dreamed  that  it 
was  anything  but  a  mistake,  that  had  made  me  give  it  the 
laudanum  ?  but  it 's  one  of  the  few  things  that  I  'm  glad 
of  now.  I  am  not  sorry  to  this  day  ;  he,  at  least,  is  out  of 
pain.  What  better  than  death  could  I  give  him,  poor 
child !  After  a  while,  the  cholera  came,  and  Captain  Stuart 
died  ;  everybody  died  that  wanted  to  live,  —  and  I,  —  I, 
though  I  went  down  to  death's  door,  — /  lived  !  Then  I 
was  sold,  and  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  till  I  grew  faded 
and  wrinkled,  and  I  had  a  fever :  and  then  this  wretch 
bought  me,  and  brought  me  here,  —  and  here  I  am !  " 

The  woman  stopped.  She  had  hurried  on  through  her 
story,  with  a  wild,  passionate  utterance  ;  sometimes  seem 
ing  to  address  it  to  Tom,  and  sometimes  speaking  as  in  a 
soliloquy.  So  vehement  and  overpowering  was  the  force 

VOL.  II. 


146  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  on 

with  which  she  spoke  that,  for  a  season,  Tom  was  beguiled 
even  from  the  pain  of  his  wounds,  and,  raising  himself  on 
one  elbow,  watched  her  as  she  paced  restlessly  up  and  down, 
her  long  black  hair  swaying  heavily  about  her  as  she  moved. 
"  You  tell  me,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "  that  there  is  a 
God,  —  a  God  that  looks  down  and  sees  all  these  things. 
Maybe  it  's  so.  The  sisters  in  the  convent  used  to  tell  me 
of  a  day  of  judgment,  when  everything  is  coming  to  light ; 

—  won't  there  be  vengeance  then  ! 

"They  think  it's  nothing,  what  we  suffer, — nothing, 
what  our  children  suffer  !  It 's  all  a  small  matter  ;  yet 
I  've  walked  the  streets  when  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  misery 
enough  in  my  one  heart  to  sink  the  city.  I  've  wished  the 
houses  would  fall  on  me,  or  the  stones  sink  under  me.  Yes  ! 
and,  in  the  judgment  day,  I  will  stand  up  before  God,  a 
witness  against  those  that  have  ruined  me  and  my  children, 
body  and  soul  ! 

"  When  I  was  a  girl,  I  thought  I  was  religious  ;  I  used 
to  love  God  and  prayer.  Now  I  'm  a  lost  soul,  pursued  by 
devils  that  torment  me  day  and  night ;  they  keep  pushing 
me  on  and  on,  —  and  1  '11  do  it,  too,  some  of  these  days  ! " 
she  said,  clenching  her  hand,  while  an  insane  light  glanced 
in  her  heavy  black  eyes.  "  I'll  send  him  where  he  belongs, 

—  a  short  way,  too,  —  one  of  these  nights,  if  they  burn  me 
alive  for  it !  "     A  wild,  loud  laugh  rang  through  the  de 
serted  room,  and  ended  in  a  hysteric  sob ;  she  threw  herself 
on  the  floor,  in  convulsive  sobbings  and  struggles. 

In  a  few  moments,  the  frenzy  fit  seemed  to  pass  off ;  she 
rose  slowly,  and  seemed  to  collect  herself. 

"Can  I  do  anything  more  for  you,  my  poor  fellow  ?''  she 
said,  approaching  where  Tom  lay ;  "  shall  I  give  you  some 
more  water  ?  " 

There  was  a  graceful  and  compassionate  sweetness  in  her 
voice  and  manner  as  she  said  this,  that  formed  a  strange 
contrast  with  the  former  wildness. 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  147 

Tom  drank  the  water,  and  looked  earnestly  and  pitifully 
into  her  face. 

"  Oh,  Missis,  I  wish  you  'd  go  to  Him  that  can  give  you 
living  waters  ! " 

"  Go  to  him  !    Where  is  he  ?    Who  is  he  ?  "  said  Gassy. 

"Him  that  you  read  of  to  me,  —  the  Lord." 

"  I  used  to  see  the  picture  of  him  over  the  altar,  when 
I  was  a  girl,"  said  Gassy,  her  dark  eyes  fixing  themselves 
in  an  expression  of  mournful  reverie ;  "  but  he  is  n't  here  ! 
there  's  nothing  here  but  sin  and  long,  long,  long  despair  ! 
Oh  !  "  She  laid  her  hand  on  her  breast  and  drew  in  her 
breath,  as  if  to  lift  a  heavy  weight. 

Tom  looked  as  if  he  would  speak  again  ;  but  she  cut  him 
short,  with  a  decided  gesture. 

"  Don't  talk,  my  poor  fellow.  Try  to  sleep  if  you  can." 
And,  placing  water  in  his  reach,  and  making  whatever  little 
arrangements  for  his  comfort  she  could,  Gassy  left  the  shed. 


148  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

THE     TOKENS 

"  And  slight,  withal,  may  be  the  things  that  bring 
Back  on  the  heart  the  weight  which  it  would  fling 
Aside  forever  ;  it  may  be  a  sound, 
A  flower,  the  wind,  the  ocean,  which  shall  wound,  — 
Striking  the  electric  chain  wherewith  we  're  darkly  bound." 
Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage,  Can.  4. 

THE  sitting-room  of  Legree's  establishment  was  a  large, 
long  room,  with  a  wide,  ample  fireplace.  It  had  once  been 
hung  with  a  showy  and  expensive  paper,  which  now  hung 
mouldering,  torn  and  discolored,  from  the  damp  walls.  The 
place  had  that  peculiar  sickening,  unwholesome  smell,  com 
pounded  of  mingled  damp,  dirt,  and  decay,  which  one  often 
notices  in  close  old  houses.  The  wall-paper  was  defaced,  in 
spots,  by  slops  of  beer  and  wine ;  or  garnished  with  chalk 
memorandums,  and  long  sums  footed  up,  as  if  somebody  had 
been  practicing  arithmetic  there.  In  the  fireplace  stood  a 
brazier  full  of  burning  charcoal;  for,  though  the  weather 
was  not  cold,  the  evenings  always  seemed  damp  and  chilly 
in  that  great  room ;  and  Legree,  moreover,  wanted  a  place 
to  light  his  cigars,  and  heat  his  water  for  punch.  The  ruddy 
glare  of  the  charcoal  displayed  the  confused  and  unpromising 
aspect  of  the  room,  —  saddles,  bridles,  several  sorts  of  har 
ness,  riding-whips,  overcoats,  and  various  articles  of  clothing, 
scattered  up  and  down  the  room  in  confused  variety ;  and 
the  dogs,  of  whom  we  have  before  spoken,  had  encamped 
themselves  among  them  to  suit  their  own  taste  and  conven 
ience. 

Legree  was  just  mixing  himself  a  tumbler  of  punch,  pour- 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  149 

ing  his  hot  water  from  a  cracked  and  broken-nosed  pitcher, 
grumbling,  as  he  did  so,  — 

"  Plague  on  that  Sambo,  to  kick  up  this  yer  row  between 
me  and  the  new  hands  !  The  fellow  won't  be  fit  to  work 
for  a  week,  now,  —  right  in  the  press  of  the  season  !  " 

"  Yes,  just  like  you,"  said  a  voice  behind  his  chair.  It 
was  the  woman  Gassy,  who  had  stolen  upon  his  soliloquy. 

"  Hah !  you  she  devil !  you  've  come  back,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  she  said  coolly ;  "  come  to  have  my  own 
way,  too !  " 

"  You  lie,  you  jade  !  I  '11  be  up  to  my  word.  Either 
behave  yourself,  or  stay  down  to  the  quarters,  and  fare  and 
work  with  the  rest." 

"  I  'd  rather,  ten  thousand  times,"  said  the  woman,  "  live 
in  the  dirtiest  hole  at  the  quarters  than  be  under  your 
hoof ! " 

"  But  you  are  under  my  hoof,  for  all  that,"  said  he,  turn 
ing  upon  her  with  a  savage  grin  j  a  that's  one  comfort.  So, 
sit  down  here  on  my  knee,  my  dear,  and  hear  to  reason," 
said  he,  laying  hold  on  her  wrist. 

"  Simon  Legree,  take  care  !  "  said  the  woman  with  a  sharp 
flash  of  her  eye,  a  glance  so  wild  and  insane  in  its  light  as 
to  be  almost  appalling.  "  You  're  afraid  of  me,  Simon,"  she 
said  deliberately  ;  "  and  you  've  reason  to  be  !  But  be  care 
ful,  for  I  've  got  the  devil  in  me  !  " 

The  last  words  she  whispered  in  a  hissing  tone,  close  to 
his  ear. 

"  Get  out !  I  believe,  to  my  soul,  you  have  !  "  said  Le 
gree,  pushing  her  from  him,  and  looking  uncomfortably  at 
her.  "  After  all,  Cassy,"  he  said,  "  why  can't  you  be  friends 
with  me,  as  you  used  to  ?  " 

"  Used  to  !  "  said  she  bitterly.  She  stopped  short,  — 
a  world  of  choking  feelings,  rising  in  her  heart,  kept  her 
silent. 

Cassy  had  always  kept  over  Legree  the  kind  of  influence 


150  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

that  a  strong,  impassioned  woman  can  ever  keep  over  the 
most  brutal  man ;  but,  of  late,  she  had  grown  more  and 
more  irritable  and  restless,  under  the  hideous  yoke  of  her 
servitude,  and  her  irritability,  at  times,  broke  out  into  raving 
insanity  ;  and  this  liability  made  her  a  sort  of  object  of 
dread  to  Legree,  who  had  that  superstitious  horror  of  insane 
persons  which  is  common  to  coarse  and  uninstructed  minds. 
When  Legree  brought  Emmeline  to  the  house,  all  the 
smouldering  embers  of  womanly  feeling  flashed  up  in  the 
worn  heart  of  Gassy,  and  she  took  part  with  the  girl ;  and 
a  fierce  quarrel  ensued  between  her  and  Legree.  Legree,  in 
a  fury,  swore  she  should  be  put  to  field  service,  if  she  would 
not  be  peaceable.  Cassy,  with  proud  scorn,  declared  she 
'would  go  to  the  field.  And  she  worked  there  one  day,  as 
we  have  described,  to  show  how  perfectly  she  scorned  the 
threat. 

Legree  was  secretly  uneasy  all  day  ;  for  Cassy  had  an 
influence  over  him  from  which  he  could  not  free  himself. 
When  she  presented  her  basket  at  the  scales,  he  had  hoped 
for  some  concession  and  addressed  her  in  a  sort  of  half-con 
ciliatory,  half-scornful  tone  ;  and  she  had  answered  with  the 
bitterest  contempt. 

The  outrageous  treatment  of  poor  Tom  had  roused  her 
still  more  ;  and  she  had  followed  Legree  to  the  house,  with 
no  particular  intention  but  to  upbraid  him  for  his  brutality. 

"  I  wish,  Cassy,"  said  Legree,  "  you  'd  behave  yourself 
decently." 

"You  talk  about  behaving  decently!  And  what  have 
you  been  doing  ?  —  you,  who  have  n't  even  sense  enough  to 
keep  from  spoiling  one  of  your  best  hands,  right  in  the  most 
pressing  season,  just  for  your  devilish  temper  !  " 

"  I  was  a  fool,  it 's  a  fact,  to  let  any  such  brangle  come 
up,"  said  Legree ;  "  but,  when  the  boy  set  up  his  will,  he 
had  to  be  broke  in." 

"  I  reckon  you  won't  break  him  in !  " 


LIFE   AMONG  THE  LOWLY  151 

"  Won't  I  ?  "  said  Legree,  rising  passionately.  "  I  Jd 
like  to  know  if  I  won't !  He  '11  be  the  first  nigger  that  ever 
came  it  round  me  !  I  '11  break  every  bone  in  his  body,  but 
he  shall  give  up  !  " 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  Sambo  entered.  He  came 
forward,  bowing,  and  holding  out  something  in  a  paper. 

"  What 's  that,  you  dog  ?  "   said  Legree. 

"  It 's  a  witch  thing,  Mas'r  !  " 

"  A  what  ?  " 

"  Something  that  niggers  gets  from  witches.  Keeps  'em 
from  feelin'  when  they  's  flogged.  He  had  it  tied  round  his 
neck,  with  a  black  string." 

Legree,  like  most  godless  and  cruel  men,  was  superstitious. 
He  took  the  paper  and  opened  it  uneasily. 

There  dropped  out  of  it  a  silver  dollar,  and  a  long,  shining 
curl  of  fair  hair,  —  hair  which,  like  a  living  thing,  twined 
itself  round  Legree's  fingers. 

"Damnation  !  "  he  screamed,  in  sudden  passion,  stamping 
on  the  floor,  and  pulling  furiously  at  the  hair,  as  if  it  burned 
him.  "  Where  did  this  come  from  ?  Take  it  off !  —  burn 
it  up  !  — burn  it  up !  "  he  screamed,  tearing  it  off,  and  throw 
ing  it  into  the  charcoal.  "  W'hat  did  you  bring  it  to  me 
for  ?  " 

Sambo  stood,  with  his  heavy  mouth  wide  open,  and 
aghast  with  wonder ;  and  Gassy,  who  was  preparing  to  leave 
the  apartment,  stopped,  and  looked  at  him  in  perfect  amaze 
ment. 

"  Don't  you  bring  me  any  more  of  your  devilish  things  !  " 
said  he,  shaking  his  fist  at  Sambo,  who  retreated  hastily 
towards  the  door  ;  and,  picking  up  the  silver  dollar,  he  sent 
it  smashing  through  the  window-pane  out  into  the  darkness. 

Sambo  was  glad  to  make  his  escape.  When  he  was  gone, 
Legree  seemed  a  little  ashamed  of  his  fit  of  alarm.  He  sat 
doggedly  down  in  his  chair,  and  began  sullenly  sipping  his 
tumbler  of  punch. 


152  UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIX;    OR 

Gassy  prepared  herself  for  going  out,  unobserved  by  him  • 
and  slipped  away  to  minister  to  poor  Tom,  as  we  have 
already  related. 

And  what  was  the  matter  with  Legree  ?  and  what  was 
there  in  a  simple  curl  of  fair  hair  to  appall  that  brutal  man, 
familiar  with  every  form  of  cruelty  ?  To  answer  this,  we 
must  carry  the  reader  backward  in  his  history.  Hard  and 
reprobate  as  the  godless  man  seemed  now,  there  had  been  a 
time  when  he  had  been  rocked  on  the  bosom  of  a  mother,  — 
cradled  with  prayers  and  pious  hymns,  —  his  now  seared 
brow  bedewed  with  the  waters  of  holy  baptism.  In  early 
childhood,  a  fair-haired  woman  had  led  him,  at  the  sound 
of  Sabbath  bell,  to  worship  and  to  pray.  Far  in  New  Eng 
land  that  mother  had  trained  her  only  son,  with  long,  un 
wearied  love  and  patient  prayers.  Born  of  a  hard-tempered 
sire,  on  whom  that  gentle  woman  had  wasted  a  world  of 
unvalued  love,  Legree  had  followed  in  the  steps  of  his 
father.  Boisterous,  unruly,  and  tyrannical,  he  despised  all 
her  counsel,  and  would  none  of  her  reproof  ;  and  at  an 
early  age,  broke  from  her,  to  seek  his  fortunes  at  sea.  He 
never  came  home  but  once  after ;  and  then,  his  mother, 
with  the  yearning  of  a  heart  that  must  love  something,  and 
has  nothing  else  to  love,  clung  to  him,  and  sought,  with 
passionate  prayers  and  entreaties,  to  win  him  from  a  life  of 
sin  to  his  soul's  eternal  good. 

That  was  Legree's  day  of  grace  ;  then  good  angels  called 
him  ;  then  he  was  almost  persuaded,  and  mercy  held  him 
by  the  hand.  His  heart  inly  relented,  —  there  was  a  con 
flict,  —  but  sin  got  the  victory,  and  he  set  all  the  force  of 
his  rough  nature  against  the  conviction  of  his  conscience. 
He  drank  and  swore,  —  was  wilder  and  more  brutal  than 
ever.  And  one  night,  when  his  mother,  in  the  last  agony 
of  her  despair,  knelt  at  his  feet,  he  spurned  her  from  him, 
—  threw  her  senseless  on  the  floor,  and,  with  brutal  curses, 
fled  to  his  ship.  The  next  Legree  heard  of  his  mother  was 


LIFE  AMONG  THE   LOWLY  153 

when,  one  night,  as  he  was  carousing  among  drunken  com 
panions,  a  letter  was  put  into  his  hand.  He  opened  it,  and 
a  lock  of  long,  curling  hair  fell  from  it,  and  twined  about 
his  fingers.  The  letter  told  him  his  mother  was  dead,  and 
that,  dying,  she  blest  and  forgave  him. 

There  is  a  dread  unhallowed  necromancy  of  evil,  that 
turns  things  sweetest  and  holiest  to  phantoms  of  horror  and 
affright.  That  pale,  loving  mother,  —  her  dying  prayers, 
her  forgiving  love,  —  wrought  in  that  demoniac  heart  of  sin 
only  as  a  damning  sentence,  bringing  with  it  a  fearful  look 
ing  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation.  Legree  burned 
the  hair,  and  burned  the  letter  ;  and  when  he  saw  them 
hissing  and  crackling  in  the  flame,  inly  shuddered  as  he 
thought  of  everlasting  fires.  He  tried  to  drink,  and  revel, 
and  swear  away  the  memory ;  but  often,  in  the  deep  night, 
whose  solemn  stillness  arraigns  the  bad  soul  in  forced  com 
munion  with  herself,  he  had  seen  that  pale  mother  rising  by 
his  bedside,  and  felt  the  soft  twining  of  that  hair  around  his 
fingers,  till  the  cold  sweat  would  roll  down  his  face,  and 
he  would  spring  from  his  bed  in  horror.  Ye  who  have 
wondered  to  hear,  in  the  same  evangel,  that  God  is  love, 
and  that  God  is  a  consuming  fire,  see  ye  not  how,  to  the 
soul  resolved  in  evil,  perfect  love  is  the  most  fearful  torture, 
the  seal  and  sentence  of  the  direst  despair  ? 

"  Blast  it !  "  said  Legree  to  himself,  as  he  sipped  his 
liquor;  "  where  did  he  get  that  ?  If  it  didn't  look  just 
like  —  whoo  !  I  thought  I  'd  forgot  that.  Curse  me,  if  1 
think  there  's  any  such  thing  as  forgetting  anything,  any 
how,  —  hang  it !  I  'm  lonesome  !  I  mean  to  call  Em. 
She  hates  me  —  the  monkey  !  I  don't  care,  —  I  '11  make 
her  come  ! " 

Legree  stepped  out  into  a  large  entry,  which  went  up 
stairs  by  what  had  formerly  been  a  superb  winding  stair 
case  ;  but  the  passage-way  was  dirty  and  dreary,  encumbered 
with  boxes  and  unsightly  litter.  The  stairs,  uncarpeted, 


154  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

seemed  winding  up  in  the  gloom,  to  nobody  knew  where  ! 
The  pale  moonlight  streamed  through  a  shattered  fanlight 
over  the  door ;  the  air  was  unwholesome  and  chilly,  like 
that  of  a  vault. 

Legree  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  heard  a  voice 
singing.  It  seemed  strange  and  ghostlike  in  that  dreary  old 
house,  perhaps  because  of  the  already  tremulous  state  of  his 
nerves.  Hark  !  what  is  it  ? 

A  wild,  pathetic  voice  chants  a  hymn  common  among  the 
slaves  :  — 

"  Oh,  there  '11  be  mourning,  mourning,  mourning, 
Oh,  there  '11  be  mourning,  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ  !  " 

"  Blast  the  girl !  "  said  Legree.  "  I  '11  choke  her. 
—  Em!  Em  !  "  he  called  harshly  ;  but  only  a  mocking  echo 
from  the  walls  answered  him.  The  sweet  voice  still  sung 
on :  — 

"  Parents  and  children  there  shall  part  ! 
Parents  and  children  there  shall  part  ! 
Shall  part  to  meet  no  more  !  " 

And  clear  and  loud  swelled  through  the  empty  halls  the 
refrain :  — 

"  Oh,  there  '11  be  mourning,  mourning,  mourning, 
Oh,  there  '11  be  mourning,  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ!  " 

Legree  stopped.  He  would  have  been  ashamed  to  tell 
of  it,  but  large  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  his  forehead,  his 
heart  beat  heavy  and  thick  with  fear  ;  he  even  thought  he 
saw  something  white  rising  and  glimmering  in  the  gloom 
before  him,  and  shuddered  to  think  what  if  the  form  of  his 
dead  mother  should  suddenly  appear  to  him. 

"  I  know  one  thing."  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  stumbled 
back  in  the  sitting-room,  and  sat  down;  "I'll  let  that 
fellow  alone  after  this  !  What  did  I  want  of  his  cussed 
paper  ?  I  b'lieve  I  am  bewitched,  sure  enough  !  I  've 
been  shivering  and  sweating  ever  since!  Where  did  he 
get  that  hair?  It  couldn't  have  been  that!  I  burnt 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  155 

that  up,  I  know  I  did  !  It  would  be  a  joke  if  hair  could 
rise  from  the  dead  !  " 

Ah,  Legree  !  that  golden  tress  was  charmed  ;  each  hair 
had  in  it  a  spell  of  terror  and  remorse  for  thee,  and  was 
used  by  a  mightier  power  to  bind  thy  cruel  hands  from  in 
flicting  uttermost  evil  on  the  helpless  ! 

"  I  say,"  said  Legree,  stamping  and  whistling  to  the 
dogs,  "  wake  up,  some  of  you,  and  keep  me  company  !  " 
but  the  dogs  only  opened  one  eye  at  him,  sleepily,  and 
closed  it  again. 

"  I  '11  have  Sambo  and  Quimbo  up  here,  to  sing  and 
dance  one  of  their  hell  dances,  and  keep  off  these  horrid 
notions,"  said  Legree  ;  and,  putting  on  his  hat,  he  went  on 
to  the  veranda,  and  blew  a  horn,  with  which  he  commonly 
summoned  his  two  sable  drivers. 

Legree  was  often  wont,  when  in  a  gracious  humor,  to  get 
these  two  worthies  into  his  sitting-room,  and,  after  warming 
them  up  with  whiskey,  amuse  himself  by  setting  them  to 
singing,  dancing,  or  fighting,  as  the  humor  took  him. 

It  was  between  one  and  two  o'clock  at  night,  as  Gassy 
was  returning  from  her  ministrations  to  poor  Tom,  that  she 
heard  the  sound  of  wild  shrieking,  whooping,  hallooing,  and 
singing,  from  the  sitting-room,  mingled  with  the  barking  of 
dogs  and  other  symptoms  of  a  general  uproar. 

She  came  up  on  the  veranda  steps,  and  looked  in. 
Legree  and  both  the  drivers,  in  a  state  of  furious  intoxica 
tion,  were  singing,  whooping,  upsetting  chairs,  and  making 
all  manner  of  ludicrous  arid  horrid  grimaces  at  each  other. 

She  rested  her  small,  slender  hand  on  the  window-blind, 
and  looked  fixedly  at  them  ;  —  there  was  a  world  of  anguish, 
scorn,  and  fierce  bitterness  in  her  black  eyes  as  she  did  so. 
"  Would  it  be  a  sin  to  rid  the  world  of  such  a  wretch  ?  " 
she  said  to  herself. 

She  turned  hurriedly  away,  and,  passing  round  to  a  back 
door,  glided  upstairs,  and  tapped  at  Emmeline's  door. 


156  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OK 


CHAPTEK   XXXVI 

EMMELINE    AND    CASSY 

GASSY  entered  the  room,  and  found  Emmeline  sitting, 
pale  with  fear,  in  the  furthest  corner  of  it.  As  she  came 
in,  the  girl  started  up  nervously ;  but,  on  seeing  who  it 
was,  rushed  forward,  and  catching  her  arm,  said,  "  Oh, 
Cassy,  is  it  you  ?  I  ?m  so  glad  you  've  come  !  I  was  afraid 
it  was  —  Oh,  you  don't  know  what  a  horrid  noise  there 
has  been  downstairs  all  this  evening !  " 

"  I  ought  to  know,"  said  Cassy  dryly.  "  I  've  heard  it 
often  enough." 

"  Oh,  Cassy  !  do  tell  me,  —  could  n't  we  get  away  from 
this  place  ?  I  don't  care  where,  —  into  the  swamp  among 
the  snakes,  —  anywhere  !  Could  n't  we  get  somewhere, 
away  from  here  ?" 

"  Nowhere,  but  into  our  graves,"  said  Cassy. 

"  Did  you  ever  try  ?  " 

"I've  seen  enough  of  trying,  and  what  comes  of  it," 
said  Cassy. 

"  I  'd  be  willing  to  live  in  the  swamps,  and  gnaw  the 
bark  from  trees.  I  ain't  afraid  of  snakes !  I  'd  rather  have 
one  near  me  than  him,"  said  Emmeline  eagerly. 

"  There  have  been  a  good  many  here  of  your  opinion," 
said  Cassy ;  "  but  you  could  n't  stay  in  the  swamps,  — 
you  'd  be  tracked  by  the  dogs,  and  brought  back,  and  then 
-  then  "  - 

"  What  would  he  do  ? "  said  the  girl,  looking  with 
breathless  interest  into  her  face. 

"  What  would  n't  he  do,  you  'd  better  ask,"  said  Cassy. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  157 

"  He  's  learned  his  trade  well,  among  the  pirates  in  the 
West  Indies.  You  would  n't  sleep  much  if  I  should  tell 
you  things  I  've  seen,  —  things  that  he  tells  of  sometimes, 
for  good  jokes.  I  've  heard  screams  here  that  I  have  n't 
been  able  to  get  out  of  my  head  for  weeks  and  weeks. 
There  's  a  place  way  out  down  by  the  quarters,  where  you 
can  see  a  black,  blasted  tree,  and  the  ground  all  covered 
with  black  ashes.  Ask  any  one  what  was  done  there,  and 
see  if  they  will  dare  to  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  won't  tell  you.  I  hate  to  think  of  it.  And  I  tell 
you,  the  Lord  only  knows  what  we  may  see  to-morrow  if 
that  poor  fellow  holds  out  as  he  's  begun." 

"  Horrid  !  "  said  Emmeline,  every  drop  of  blood  reced 
ing  from  her  cheeks.  "  Oh,  Gassy,  do  tell  me  what  I 
shall  do !  " 

"What  I've  done.  Do  the  best  you  can,  —  do  what 
you  must,  —  and  make  it  up  in  hating  and  cursing." 

"He  wanted  to  make  me  drink  some  of  his  hateful 
brandy,"  said  Emmeline  ;  "  and  I  hate  it  so  " 

"  You  'd  better  drink,"  said  Cassy.  "  I  hated  it,  too  ; 
and  now  I  can't  live  without  it.  One  must  have  something, 
—  things  don't  look  so  dreadful  when  you  take  that." 

"  Mother  used  to  tell  me  never  to  touch  any  such  thing," 
said  Emmeline. 

"  Mother  told  you !  "  said  Cassy,  with  a  thrilling  and 
bitter  emphasis  on  the  word  mother.  "  What  use  is  it  for 
mothers  to  say  anything  ?  You  are  all  to  be  bought  and 
paid  for,  and  your  soul  belongs  to  whoever  gets  you.  That 's 
the  way  it  goes.  I  say,  drink  brandy ;  drink  all  you  can, 
and  it  '11  make  things  come  easier." 

"  Oh,  Cassy  !  do  pity  me  !  " 

"  Pity  you  !  —  don't  I  ?  Have  n't  I  a  daughter,  —  Lord 
knows  where  she  is,  and  whose  she  is,  now,  —  going  the 
way  her  mother  went  before  her,  I  suppose,  and  that  her 


158  UXCLE  TOM'S  CABIN  ;  OR 

children  must  go  after  her  !  There  's  no  end  to  the  curse 
—  forever  !  " 

"  I  wish  I  'd  never  been  born  !  "  said  Emmeline,  wring 
ing  her  hands. 

"That 's  an  old  wish  with  me,"  said  Gassy.  "  I  've  got 
used  to  wishing  that.  I  'd  die  if  I  dared  to,"  she  said,  look 
ing  out  into  the  darkness,  with  that  still,  fixed  despair  which 
was  the  habitual  expression  of  her  face  when  at  rest. 

"  It  would  be  wicked  to  kill  one's  self,"  said  Emmeline. 

"  I  don't  know  why,  —  no  wickeder  than  things  we  live 
and  do  day  after  day.  But  the  sisters  told  me  things  when 
I  was  in  the  convent  that  make  me  afraid  to  die.  If  it 
would  only  be  the  end  of  us,  why  then  "  — 

Emmeline  turned  away,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

While  this  conversation  was  passing  in  the  chamber,  Le- 
gree,  overcome  with  his  carouse,  had  sunk  to  sleep  in  the 
room  below.  Legree  was  not  an  habitual  drunkard.  His 
coarse,  strong  nature  craved,  and  could  endure,  a  continual 
stimulation  that  would  have  utterly  wrecked  and  crazed  a 
finer  one.  But  a  deep,  underlying  spirit  of  cautiousness 
prevented  his  often  yielding  to  appetite  in  such  measure  as 
to  lose  control  of  himself. 

This  night,  however,  in  his  feverish  efforts  to  banish  from 
his  mind  those  fearful  elements  of  woe  and  remorse  which 
woke  within  him,  he  had  indulged  more  than  common  ;  so 
that  when  he  had  discharged  his  sable  attendants,  he  fell 
heavily  on  a  settle  in  the  room,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep. 

Oh  !  how  dares  the  bad  soul  to  enter  the  shadowy  world 
of  sleep  ?  —  that  land  whose  dim  outlines  lie  so  fearfully 
near  to  the  mystic  scene  of  retribution  !  Legree  dreamed. 
In  his  heavy  and  feverish  sleep,  a  veiled  form  stood  beside 
him,  and  laid  a  cold,  soft  hand  upon  him.  He  thought  he 
knew  who  it  was ;  and  shuddered,  with  creeping  horror, 
though  the  face  was  veiled.  Then  he  thought  he  felt  that 
hair  twining  round  his  fingers ;  and  then,  that  it  slid 


LIFE    AMONG  THE    LOWLY  159 

smoothly  round  his  neck,  and  tightened  and  tightened,  and 
he  could  not  draw  his  breath  ;  and  then  he  thought  voices 
whispered  to  him,  —  whispers  that  chilled  him  with  horror. 
Then  it  seemed  to  him  he  was  on  the  edge  of  a  frightful 
abyss,  holding  on  and  struggling  in  mortal  fear,  while  dark 
hands  stretched  up,  and  were  pulling  him.  over ;  and  Gassy 
came  behind  him  laughing,  and  pushed  him.  And  then 
rose  up  that  solemn  veiled  figure,  and  drew  aside  the  veil. 
It  was  his  mother ;  and  she  turned  away  from  him,  and  he 
fell  down,  down,  down,  amid  a  confused  noise  of  shrieks, 
and  groans,  and  shouts  of  demon  laughter,  —  and  Legree 
awoke. 

Calmly  the  rosy  hue  of  dawn  was  stealing  into  the  room. 
The  morning  star  stood,  with  its  solemn,  holy  eye  of  light, 
looking  down  on  the  man  of  sin,  from  out  the  brightening 
sky.  Oh,  with  what  freshness,  what  solemnity  and  beauty, 
is  each  new  day  born ;  as  if  to  say  to  insensate  man,  "  Behold  ! 
thou  hast  one  more  chance  !  Strive  for  immortal  glory  !  " 
There  is  no  speech  nor  language  where  this  voice  is  not 
heard  ;  but  the  bold,  bad  man  heard  it  not.  He  woke  with 
an  oath  and  a  curse.  What  to  him  was  the  gold  and  pur 
ple,  the  daily  miracle  of  morning  !  What  to  him  the  sanc 
tity  of  that  star  which  the  Son  of  God  has  hallowed  as  his 
own  emblem  ?  Brute-like,  he  saw  without  perceiving  ;  and, 
stumbling  forward,  poured  out  a  tumbler  of  brandy  and 
drank  half  of  it. 

"  I  've  had  a  h — 1  of  a  night !  "  he  said  to  Gassy,  who 
just  then  entered  from  an  opposite  door. 

"  You  '11  get  plenty  of  the  same  sort  by  and  by,"  said 
she  dryly. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  you  minx  ?  " 

"  You  '11  find  out  one  of  these  days,"  returned  Gassy  in 
the  same  tone.  "  Now,  Simon,  I  've  one  piece  of  advice  to 
give  you." 

"  The  devil,  you  have  ! " 


160  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"  My  advice  is,"  said  Gassy  steadily,  as  she  began  adjust 
ing  some  things  about  the  room,  "  that  you  let  Tom  alone." 

"  What  business  is  't  of  yours  ?  " 

"  What  ?  To  be  sure,  I  don't  know  what  it  should  be. 
If  you  want  to  pay  twelve  hundred  for  a  fellow,  and  use 
him  right  up  in  the  press  of  the  season,  just  to  serve  your 
own  spite,  it 's  no  business  of  mine.  I  've  done  what  I 
could  for  him." 

"  You  have  ?  What  business  have  you  meddling  in  my 
matters  ?  " 

"  None,  to  be  sure.  I  've  saved  you  some  thousands  of 
dollars  at  different  times,  by  taking  care  of  your  hands,  — 
that 's  all  the  thanks  I  get.  If  your  crop  comes  shorter 
into  market  than  any  of  theirs,  you  won't  lose  your  bet,  I 
suppose  ?  Tompkins  won't  lord  it  over  you,  I  suppose,  — 
and  you  '11  pay  down  your  money  like  a  lady,  won't  you  ? 
I  think  I  see  you  doing  it !  " 

Legree,  like  many  other  planters,  had  but  one  form  of 
ambition,  —  to  have  in  the  heaviest  crop  of  the  season,  — 
and  he  had  several  bets  on  this  very  present  season  pend 
ing  in  the  next  town.  Gassy,  therefore,  with  woman's  tact, 
touched  the  only  string  that  could  be  made  to  vibrate. 

"Well,  I  '11  let  him  off  at  what  he  's  got,"  said  Legree  ; 
"  but  he  shall  beg  my  pardon,  and  promise  better  fashions." 

"  That  he  won't  do,"  said  Gassy. 

"  Won't,  —  eh  ?  " 

"No,  he  won't,"  said  Gassy. 

"I'd  like  to  know  why.  Mistress,"  said  Legree,  in  the 
extreme  of  scorn. 

"  Because  he  's  done  right,  and  he  knows  it,  and  won't 
say  he  's  done  wrong." 

"  Who  a  cuss  cares  what  he  knows  ?  The  nigger  shall 
say  what  I  please,  or  "  — 

"  Or,  you  '11  lose  your  bet  on  the  cotton  crop,  by  keeping 
him  out  of  the  field,  just  at  this  very  press." 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  161 

"  But  he  will  give  up,  —  course,  he  will ;  don't  I  know 
what  niggers  is  ?  He  '11  beg  like  a  dog  this  morning." 

"  He  won't,  Simon ;  you  don't  know  this  kind.  You 
may  kill  him  by  inches,  —  you  won't  get  the  first  word  of 
confession  out  of  him." 

"  We  '11  see  ;  —  where  is  he  ?  "   said  Legree,  going  out. 

"  In  the  waste-room  of  the  gin-house,"  said  Cassy. 

Legree,  though  he  talked  so  stoutly  to  Cassy,  still  sallied 
forth  from  the  house  with  a  degree  of  misgiving  which  was 
not  common  with  him.  His  dreams  of  the  past  night,  mingled 
with  Cassy 's  prudential  suggestions,  considerably  affected  his 
mind.  He  resolved  that  nobody  should  be  witness  of  his 
encounter  with  Tom ;  and  determined,  if  he  could  not  sub 
due  him  by  bullying,  to  defer  his  vengeance,  to  be  wreaked 
in  a  more  convenient  season. 

The  solemn  light  of  dawn  —  the  angelic  glory  of  the 
morning  star  —  had  looked  in  through  the  rude  window  of 
the  shed  where  Tom  was  lying  ;  and,  as  if  descending  on 
that  star-beam,  came  the  solemn  words,  "  I  am  the  root  and 
offspring  of  David,  and  the  bright  and  morning  star."  The 
mysterious  warnings  and  intimations  of  Cassy,  so  far  from 
discouraging  his  soul,  in  the  end  had  aroused  it  as  with  a 
heavenly  call.  He  did  not  know  but  that  the  day  of  his 
death  was  dawning  in  the  sky ;  and  his  heart  throbbed  with 
solemn  throes  of  joy  and  desire,  as  he  thought  that  the 
wondrous  all,  of  which  he  had  often  pondered,  —  the  great 
white  throne,  with  its  ever  radiant  rainbow ;  the  white-robed 
multitude,  with  voices  as  many  waters ;  the  crowns,  the 
palms,  the  harps,  —  might  all  break  upon  his  vision  before 
that  sun  should  set  again.  And,  therefore,  without  shud 
dering  or  trembling,  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  persecutor, 
as  he  drew  near. 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  said  Legree,  with  a  contemptuous  kick, 
"how  do  you  find  yourself?  Didn't  I  tell  yer  I  could  lam 
yer  a  thing  or  two  ?  How  do  yer  like  it,  —  eh  ?  How  did 

VOL.  II. 


162  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

yer  whaling  agree  with  yer,  Tom  ?  Ain't  quite  so  crank  as 
ye  was  last  night.  Ye  could  n't  treat  a  poor  sinner,  now, 
to  a  bit  of  a  sermon,  could  ye,  —  eh  ?  " 

Tom  answered  nothing. 

"  Get  up,  you  beast !  "  said  Legree,  kicking  him  again. 

This  was  a  difficult  matter  for  one  so  bruised  and  faint ; 
and,  as  Tom  made  efforts  to  do  so,  Legree  laughed  brutally. 

"  What  makes  ye  so  spry  this  morning,  Tom  ?  Cotched 
cold,  maybe,  last  night." 

Tom  by  this  time  had  gained  his  feet,  and  was  confront 
ing  his  master  with  a  steady,  unmoved  front. 

"  The  devil,  you  can  !  "  said  Legree,  looking  him  ,over. 
"I  believe  you  haven't  got  enough  yet.  Now,  Tom,  get 
right  down  on  yer  knees  and  beg  my  pardon,  for  yer  shines 
last  night." 

Tom  did  not  move. 

"  Down,  you  dog !  "  said  Legree,  striking  him  with  his 
rid  ing- whip. 

"  Mas'r  Legree,"  said  Tom,  "  I  can't  do  it.  I  did  only 
what  I  thought  was  right.  I  shall  do  just  so  again,  if  ever 
the  time  comes.  I  never  will  do  a  cruel  thing,  come  what 
may." 

"  Yes,  but  ye  don't  know  what  may  come,  Master  Tom. 
Ye  think  what  you  've  got  is  something.  I  tell  you  't  ain't 
anything,  —  nothing  't  all.  How  would  ye  like  to  be  tied 
to  a  tree,  and  have  a  slow  fire  lit  up  around  ye ;  — would  n't 
that  be  pleasant,  —  eh,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Mas'r,"  said  Tom,  "  I  know  ye  can  do  dreadful  things ; 
but,"  —  he  stretched  himself  upward  and  clasped  his  hands, 
—  "  but,  after  ye  've  killed  the  body,  there  ain't  no  more 
ye  can  do.  And  oh,  there  's  all  ETERNITY  to  come,  after 
that ! " 

ETERNITY,  —  the  word  thrilled  through  the  black  man's 
soul  with  light  and  power  as  he  spoke  ;  it  thrilled  through 
the  sinner's  soul,  too,  like  the  bite  of  a  scorpion.  Legree 


LIFE    AMONG   THE    LOWLY  163 

gnashed  on  him  with  his  teeth,  but  rage  kept  him  silent; 
and  Tom,  like  a  man  disenthralled,  spoke  in  a  clear  and 
cheerful  voice,  — 

"Mas'r  Legree,  as  ye  bought  me,  I'll  be  a  true  and 
faithful  servant  to  ye.  I  '11  give  ye  all  the  work  of  my 
hands,  all  my  time,  all  my  strength ;  but  my  soul  I  won't 
give  up  to  mortal  man.  I  will  hold  on  to  the  Lord,  and 
put  his  commands  before  all,  —  die  or  live  ;  you  may  be 
sure  on  't.  Mas'r  Legree,  I  ain't  a  grain  afeard  to  die.  I  'd  as 
soon  die  as  not.  Ye  may  whip  me,  starve  me,  burn  me,  — 
it  '11  only  send  me  sooner  where  I  want  to  go." 

"  I  '11  make  ye  give  out,  though,  'fore  I  've  done !  "  said 
Legree  in  a  rage. 

"  I  shall  have  help,"  said  Tom.      "  You  '11  never  do  it." 

"  Who  the  devil 's  going  to  help  you  ?  "  said  Legree 
scornfully. 

"  The  Lord  Almighty,"  said  Tom. 

"  D — n  you  !  "  said  Legree,  as  with  one  blow  of  his  fist 
he  felled  Tom  to  the  earth. 

A  cold  soft  hand  fell  on  Legree's  at  this  moment.  He 
turned,  —  it  was  Cassy's  ;  but  the  cold  soft  touch  recalled 
his  dream  of  the  night  before,  and,  flashing  through  the 
chambers  of  his  brain,  came  all  the  fearful  images  of  the 
night-watches,  with  a  portion  of  the  horror  that  accompanied 
them. 

"  Will  you  be  a  fool  ?  "  said  Gassy  in  French.  "  Let 
him  go  !  Let  me  alone  to  get  him  fit  to  be  in  the  field 
again.  Is  n't  it  just  as  I  told  you  ?  " 

They  say  the  alligator,  the  rhinoceros,  though  inclosed  in 
bullet-proof  mail,  have  each  a  spot  where  they  are  vulner 
able  ;  and  fierce,  reckless,  unbelieving  reprobates  have  com 
monly  this  point  in  superstitious  dread. 

Legree  turned  away,  determined  to  let  the  point  go  for 
the  time. 

"  Well,  have  it  your  own  way,"  he  said  doggedly  to  Gassy. 


164  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  Hark  ye !  "  he  said  to  Tom ;  "  I  won't  deal  with  ye 
now  because  business  is  pressing,  and  I  want  all  my  hands ; 
but  I  never  forget.  I  '11  score  it  against  ye,  and  some  time 
I  '11  have  my  pay  out  o'  yer  old  black  hide,  —  mind  ye !  " 

Legree  turned  and  went  out. 

"  There  you  go,"  said  Cassy,  looking  darkly  after  him  ; 
"  your  reckoning  's  to  come  yet !  —  My  poor  fellow,  how 
are  you  ?  " 

"  The  Lord  God  hath  sent  his  angel,  and  shut  the  lion's 
mouth  for  this  time,"  said  Tom. 

"  For  this  time,  to  be  sure,"  said  Cassy ;  "  but  now 
you  ?ve  got  his  ill. will  upon  you,  to  follow  you  day  in,  day 
out,  hanging  like  a  dog  on  your  throat,  —  sucking  your 
blood,  bleeding  away  your  life,  drop  by  drop.  I  know  the 
man." 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  165 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

LIBERTY 

"  No  matter  with  what  solemnities  he  may  have  been  devoted  upon  the 
altar  of  slavery,  the  moment  he  touches  the  sacred  soil  of  Britain,  the  altar 
and  the  God  sink  together  in  the  dust,  and  he  stands  redeemed,  regener 
ated,  and  disenthralled,  by  the  irresistible  genius  of  universal  emancipa 
tion."  — CURRAN. 

AWHILE  we  must  leave  Tom  in  the  hands  of  his  persecu 
tors,  while  we  turn  to  pursue  the  fortunes  of  George  and 
his  wife,  whom  we  left  in  friendly  hands,  in  a  farmhouse 
on  the  roadside. 

Tom  Loker  we  left  groaning  and  touzling  in  a  most 
immaculately  clean  Quaker  bed,  under  the  motherly  super 
vision  of  Aunt  Dorcas,  who  found  him  to  the  full  as  tract 
able  a  patient  as  a  sick  bison. 

Imagine  a  tall,  dignified,  spiritual  woman,  whose  clear 
muslin  cap  shades  waves  of  silvery  hair,  parted  on  a  broad, 
clear  forehead,  which  overarches  thoughtful  gray  eyes.  A 
snowy  handkerchief  of  lisse  crape  is  folded  neatly  across  her 
bosom,  her  glossy  brown  silk  dress  rustles  peacefully,  as  she 
glides  up  and  down  the  chamber. 

"  The  devil  !  "  says  Tom  Loker,  giving  a  great  throw  to 
the  bedclothes. 

"  I  must  request  thee,  Thomas,  not  to  use  such  language," 
says  Aunt  Dorcas,  as  she  quietly  rearranged  the  bed. 

"  Well,  I  won't,  granny,  if  I  can  help  it,"  says  Tom  ; 
"  but  it  is  enough  to  make  a  fellow  swear,  —  so  cursedly 
hot !  » 

Dorcas  removed  a  comforter  from  the  bed,  straightened 


166  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

the  clothes  again,  and  tucked  them  in  till  Tom  looked  some 
thing  like  a  chrysalis ;  remarking  as  she  did  so,  — 

"I  wish,  friend,  thee  would  leave  off  cursing  and  swear 
ing,  and  think  upon  thy  ways." 

"What  the  devil,"  said  Tom,  "should  I  think  of  them 
for  ?  Last  thing  ever  /  want  to  think  of,  —  hang  it  all !  " 
And  Tom  flounced  over,  untucking  and  disarranging  every 
thing,  in  a  manner  frightful  to  behold. 

"  That  fellow  and  gal  are  here,  I  s'pose,"  said  he  sul 
lenly,  after  a  pause. 

"  They  are  so,"  said  Dorcas. 

"  They  'd  better  be  off  up  to  the  lake,"  said  Tom  ;  "  the 
quicker  the  better." 

"  Probably  they  will  do  so,"  said  Aunt  Dorcas,  knitting 
peacefully. 

"  And  hark  ye,"  said  Tom  ;  "  we  ?ve  got  correspondents 
in  Sandusky  that  watch  the  boats  for  us.  I  don't  care  if  I 
tell  now.  I  hope  they  will  get  away,  just  to  spite  Marks, 
—  the  cursed  puppy  !  —  d — n  him  !  " 

"Thomas!"  said  Dorcas. 

"  I  tell  you,  granny,  if  you  bottle  a  fellow  up  too  tight, 
I  shall  split,"  said  Tom.  "  But  about  the  gal,  —  tell  'em 
to  dress  her  up  some  way,  so  's  to  alter  her.  Her  descrip 
tion  's  out  in  Sandusky." 

"We  will  attend  to  that  matter,"  said  Dorcas,  with  char 
acteristic  composure. 

As  we  at  this  place  take  leave  of  Tom  Loker,  we  may  as 
well  say  that,  having  lain  three  weeks  at  the  Quaker  dwell 
ing,  sick  with  rheumatic  fever,  which  set  in,  in  company 
with  his  other  afflictions,  Tom  arose  from  his  bed  a  some 
what  sadder  and  wiser  man  ;  and,  in  place  of  slave-catching, 
betook  himself  to  life  in  one  of  the  new  settlements,  where 
his  talents  developed  themselves  more  happily  in  trapping 
bears,  wolves,  and  other  inhabitants  of  the  forest,  in  which 
he  made  himself  quite  a  name  in  the  land.  Tom  always 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  167 

spoke  reverently  of  the  Quakers.  "Nice  people,"  he  would 
say;  "wanted  to  convert  me,  but  couldn't  come  it  exactly. 
But,  tell  ye  what,  stranger,  they  do  fix  up  a  sick  fellow 
firstrate,  —  no  mistake.  Make  jist  the  tallest  kind  o'  broth 
and  knick-knacks." 

As  Tom  had  informed  them  that  their  party  would  be 
looked  for  in  Sandusky,  it  was  thought  prudent  to  divide 
them.  Jim,  with  his  old  mother,  was  forwarded  separately ; 
and  a  night  or  two  after,  George  and  Eliza,  with  their  child, 
were  driven  privately  into  Sandusky,  and  lodged  beneath  a 
hospitable  roof,  preparatory  to  taking  their  last  passage  on 
the  lake. 

Their  night  was  now  far  spent,  and  the  morning  star  of 
liberty  rose  fair  before  them.  Liberty  !  —  electric  word  ! 
What  is  it  ?  Is  there  anything  more  in  it  than  a  name,  — 
a  rhetorical  nourish  ?  Why,  men  and  women  of  America, 
does  your  heart's  blood  thrill  at  that  word,  for  which  your 
fathers  bled,  and  your  braver  mothers  were  willing  that  their 
noblest  and  best  should  die  ? 

Is  there  anything  in  it  glorious  and  dear  for  a  nation, 
that  is  not  also  glorious  and  dear  for  a  man  ?  What  is 
freedom  to  a  nation  but  freedom  to  the  individuals  in  it  ? 
What  is  freedom  to  that  young  man  who  sits  there,  with 
his  arms  folded  over  his  broad  chest,  the  tint  of  African 
blood  in  his  cheek,  its  dark  fires  in  his  eye,  —  what  is  free 
dom  to  George  Harris  ?  To  your  fathers,  freedom  was  the 
right  of  a  nation  to  be  a  nation.  To  him,  it  is  the  right  of 
a  man  to  be  a  man,  and  not  a  brute  ;  the  right  to  call  the 
wife  of  his  bosom  his  wife,  and  to  protect  her  from  lawless 
violence  ;  the  right  to  protect  and  educate  his  child  ;  the 
right  to  have  a  home  of  his  own,  a  religion  of  his  own,  a 
character  of  his  own,  unsubject  to  the  will  of  another.  All 
these  thoughts  were  rolling  and  seething  in  George's  breast, 
as  he  was  pensively  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  watching 
his  wife,  as  she  was  adapting  to  her  slender  and  pretty  form 


1G8  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

the  articles  of  man's  attire,  in  which  it  was  deemed  safest 
she  should  make  her  escape. 

"  Now  for  it,"  said  she,  as  she  stood  before  the  glass,  and 
shook  down  her  silky  abundance  of  black  curly  hair,  "  I  say, 
George,  it 's  almost  a  pity,  is  n't  it,"  she  said,  as  she  held 
up  some  of  it  playfully, —  "  pity  it 's  all  got  to  come  off  ?  " 

George  smiled  sadly,  and  made  no  answer. 

Eliza  turned  to  the  glass,  and  the  scissors  glittered  as  one 
long  lock  after  another  was  detached  from  her  head. 

"  There,  now,  that  '11  do,"  she  said,  taking  up  a  hair 
brush  ;  "  now  for  a  few  fancy  touches." 

"  There,  ain't  I  a  pretty  young  fellow  ?  "  she  said,  turn 
ing  around  to  her  husband,  laughing  and  blushing  at  the 
same  time. 

"You  always  will  be  pretty,  do  what  you  will,"  said 
George. 

"  What  does  make  you  so  sober  ?  "  said  Eliza,  kneeling 
on  one  knee,  and  laying  her  hand  on  his.  "  We  are  only 
within  twenty-four  hours  of  Canada,  they  say.  Only  a  day 
and  a  night  on  the  lake,  and  then,  —  oh,  then  !  "  — 

"  Oh,  Eliza !  "  said  George,  drawing  her  towards  him, 
"  that  is  it !  Now  my  fate  is  all  narrowing  down  to  a  point. 
To  come  so  near,  to  be  almost  in  sight,  and  then  lose  all  — 
I  should  never  live  under  it,  Eliza." 

"  Don't  fear,"  said  his  wife  hopefully.  "The  good  Lord 
would  not  have  brought  us  so  far  if  he  did  n't  mean  to  carry 
us  through.  I  seem  to  feel  him  with  us,  George." 

"  You  are  a  blessed  woman,  Eliza  !  "  said  George,  clasp 
ing  her  with  a  convulsive  grasp.  "  But  —  oh,  tell  me  !  —  can 
this  great  mercy  be  for  us  ?  Will  these  years  and  years  of 
misery  come  to  an  end  ?  —  shall  we  be  free  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  George,"  said  Eliza,  looking  upward, 
while  tears  of  hope  and  enthusiasm  shone  on  her  long,  dark 
lashes.  "  I  feel  it  in  me,  that  God  is  going  to  bring  us  out 
of  bondage  this  very  day." 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  169 

"  I  will  believe  you,  Eliza/'  said  George,  rising  suddenly 
up.  "  I  will  believe,  —  come,  let 's  be  off.  Well,  indeed," 
said  he,  holding  her  off  at  arm's  length,  and  looking  admir 
ingly  at  her,  "  you  are  a  pretty  little  fellow.  That  crop 
of  little  short  curls  is  quite  becoming.  Put  on  your  cap. 
So  !  —  a  little  to  one  side.  I  never  saw  you  look  quite  so 
pretty.  But  it 's  almost  time  for  the  carriage  ;  —  I  wonder 
if  Mrs.  Smyth  has  got  Harry  rigged  ?  " 

The  door  opened,  and  a  respectable,  middle-aged  woman 
entered,  leading  little  Harry,  dressed  in  girl's  clothes. 

"  What  a  pretty  girl  he  makes,"  said  Eliza,  turning  him 
round.  "  We  call  him  Harriet,  you  see  ;  —  don't  the  name 
come  nicely  ?  " 

The  child  stood  gravely  regarding  his  mother  in  her  new 
and  strange  attire,  observing  a  profound  silence,  and  occa 
sionally  drawing  deep  sighs,  and  peeping  at  her  from  under 
his  dark  curls. 

"  Does  Harry  know  mamma  ?  "  said  Eliza,  stretching  her 
hands  toward  him. 

The  child  clung  shyly  to  the  woman. 

"Come,  Eliza,  why  do  you  try  to  coax  him,  when  you 
know  that  he  has  got  to  be  kept  away  from  you  ?  " 

"I  know  it's. foolish,"  said  Eliza;  "  yet,  I  can't  bear  to 
have  him  turn  away  from  me.  But  come,  —  where  's  my 
cloak  ?  Here,  —  how  is  it  men  put  on  cloaks,  George  ?  " 

"  You  must  wear  it  so,"  said  her  husband,  throwing  it 
over  his  shoulders. 

"  So,  then,"  said  Eliza,  imitating  the  motion,  —  "  and  I 
must  stamp,  and  take  long  steps,  and  try  to  look  saucy." 

"  Don't  exert  yourself,"  said  George.  "  There  is,  now 
and  then,  a  modest  young  man  ;  and  I  think  it  would  be 
easier  for  you  to  act  that  character." 

"  And  these  gloves  !  mercy  upon  us  !  "  said  Eliza  ;  "  why, 
my  hands  are  lost  in  them." 

"I  advise  you  to   keep  them   on   pretty  strictly,"   said 


170  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

George.  "  Your  little  slender  paw  might  bring  us  all  out. 
Now,  Mrs.  Smyth,  you  are  to  go  under  our  charge,  and  be 
our  aunty,  — you  mind." 

"  I  've  heard/'  said  Mrs.  Smith,  "  that  there  have  been 
men  down,  warning  all  the  packet  captains  against  a  man 
and  woman,  with  a  little  boy." 

"  They  have  !  "  said  George.  "  Well,  if  we  see  any  such 
people,  we  can  tell  them." 

A  hack  now  drove  to  the  door,  and  the  friendly  family 
who  had  received  the  fugitives  crowded  around  them  with 
farewell  greetings. 

The  disguises  the  party  had  assumed  were  in  accordance 
with  the  hints  of  Tom  Loker.  Mrs.  Smyth,  a  respectable 
woman  from  the  settlement  in  Canada,  whither  they  were 
fleeing,  being  fortunately  about  crossing  the  lake  to  return 
thither,  had  consented  to  appear  as  the  aunt  of  little  Harry  ; 
and,  in  order  to  attach  him  to  her,  he  had  been  allowed  to 
remain  the  last  two  days  under  her  sole  charge  ;  and  an 
extra  amount  of  petting,  joined  to  an  indefinite  amount  of 
seed-cakes  and  candy,  had  cemented  a  very  close  attachment 
on  the  part  of  the  young  gentleman. 

The  hack  drove  to  the  wharf.  The  two  young  men,  as 
they  appeared,  walked  up  the  plank  into  the  boat,  Eliza 
gallantly  giving  her  arm  to  Mrs.  Smyth,  and  George  attend 
ing  to  their  baggage. 

George  was  standing  at  the  captain's  office,  settling  for  his 
party,  when  he  overheard  two  men  talking  by  his  side. 

"  I  've  watched  every  one  that  came  on  board,"  said  one, 
"  and  I  know  they  're  not  on  this  boat." 

The  voice  was  that  of  the  clerk  of  the  boat.  The  speaker 
whom  he  addressed  was  our  sometime  friend  Marks,  who, 
with  that  valuable  perseverance  which  characterized  him, 
had  come  on  to  Sandusky,  seeking  whom  he  might  devour. 

"  You  would  scarcely  know  the  woman  from  a  white  one," 
said  Marks.  "  The  man  is  a  very  light  mulatto  ;  he  has  a 
brand  in  one  of  his  hands." 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  171 

The  hand  with  which  George  was  taking  the  tickets  and 
change  trembled  a  little  ;  but  he  turned  coolly  around,  fixed 
an  unconcerned  glance  on  the  face  of  the  speaker,  and  walked 
leisurely  toward  another  part  of  the  boat,  where  Eliza  stood 
waiting  for  him. 

Mrs.  Smyth,  with  little  Harry,  sought  the  seclusion  of  the 
ladies'  cabin,  where  the  dark  beauty  of  the  supposed  little 
girl  drew  many  nattering  comments  from  the  passengers. 

George  had  the  satisfaction,  as  the  bell  rang  out  its  fare 
well  peal,  to  see  Marks  walk  down  the  plank  to  the  shore  5 
and  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  when  the  boat  had  put  a 
returnless  distance  between  them. 

It  was  a  superb  day.  The  blue  waves  of  Lake  Erie  danced, 
rippling  and  sparkling,  in  the  sunlight.  A  fresh  breeze  blew 
from  the  shore,  and  the  lordly  boat  ploughed  her  way  right 
gallantly  onward. 

Oh,  what  an  untold  world  there  is  in  one  human  heart ! 
Who  thought,  as  George  walked  calmly  up  and  down  the 
deck  of  the  steamer,  with  his  shy  companion  at  his  side,  of 
all  that  was  burning  in  his  bosom  ?  The  mighty  good  that 
seemed  approaching  seemed  too  good,  too  fair,  even  to  be  a 
reality  ;  and  he  felt  a  jealous  dread,  every  moment  of  the 
day,  that  something  would  rise  to  snatch  it  from  him. 

But  the  boat  swept  on.  Hours  fleeted,  and  at  last  clear 
and  full  rose  the  blessed  English  shores ;  shores  charmed 
by  a  mighty  spell,  —  with  one  touch  to  dissolve  every  in 
cantation  of  slavery,  no  matter  in  what  language  pronounced 
or  by  what  national  power  confirmed. 

George  and  his  wife  stood  arm  in  arm,  as  the  boat  neared 
the  small  town  of  Amherstburg,  in  Canada.  His  breath 
grew  thick  and  short ;  a  mist  gathered  before  his  eyes ;  he 
silently  pressed  the  little  hand  that  lay  trembling  on  his 
arm.  The  bell  rang;  the  boat  stopped.  Scarcely  seeing 
what  he  did,  he  looked  out  his  baggage,  and  gathered  his 
little  party.  The  little  company  were  landed  on  the  shore. 


172  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

They  stood  still  till  the  boat  had  cleared ;  and  then,  with 
tears  and  embracings,  the  husband  and  wife,  with  their 
wondering  child  in  their  arms,  knelt  clown  and  lifted  up 
their  hearts  to  God  ! 

"  'T  was  something  like  the  burst  from  death  to  life ; 

From  the  grave's  cerements  to  the  robes  of  heaven; 
From  sin's  dominion,  and  from  passion's  strife, 

To  the  pure  freedom  of  a  soul  forgiven; 

Where  all  the  bonds  of  death  and  hell  are  riven, 
And  mortal  puts  on  immortality, 
When  Mercy's  hand  hath  turned  the  golden  key, 
And  Mercy's  voice  hath  said,  Rejoice,  thy  soul  isj'ree." 

The  little  party  were  soon  guided,  by  Mrs.  Smyth,,  to 
the  hospitable  abode  of  a  good  missionary,  whom  Christian 
charity  has  placed  here  as  a  shepherd  to  the  outcast  and 
wandering,  who  are  constantly  finding  an  asylum  on  this 
shore. 

Who  can  speak  the  blessedness  of  that  first  day  of  free 
dom  ?  Is  not  the  sense  of  liberty  a  higher  and  a  finer  one 
than  any  of  the  five  ?  To  move,  speak,  and  breathe,  — 
go  out  and  come  in  unwatched,  and  free  from  danger  !  Who 
can  speak  the  blessings  of  that  rest  which  conies  down  on 
the  free  man's  pillow,  under  laws  which  insure  to  him  the 
rights  that  God  has  given  to  man  ?  How  fair  and  precious 
to  that  mother  was  that  sleeping  child's  face,  endeared  by 
the  memory  of  a  thousand  dangers !  How  impossible  was 
it  to  sleep,  in  the  exuberant  possession  of  such  blessedness  ! 
And  yet,  these  two  had  not  one  acre  of  ground,  —  not  a  roof 
that  they  could  call  their  own,  —  they  had  spent  their  all, 
to  the  last  dollar.  They  had  nothing  more  than  the  birds 
of  the  air  or  the  flowers  of  the  field,  —  yet  they  could  not 
sleep  for  joy.  "  Oh,  ye  who  take  freedom  from  man,  with 
what  words  shall  ye  answer  it  to  God  ?  " 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  173 


CHAPTEE   XXXVIII 

THE    VICTORY 

"  Thanks  be  unto  God,  who  giveth  us  the  victory." 

HAVE  not  many  of  us,  in  the  weary  way  of  life,  felt  in 
some  hours  how  far  easier  it  were  to  die  than  to  live  ? 

The  martyr,  when  faced  even  by  a  death  of  bodily  anguish 
and  horror,  finds  in  the  very  terror  of  his  doom  a  strong 
stimulant  and  tonic.  There  is  a  vivid  excitement,  a  thrill  and 
fervor,  which  may  carry  through  any  crisis  of  suffering  that 
is  the  birth-hour  of  eternal  glory  and  rest. 

But  to  live,  —  to  wear  on  day  after  day  of  mean,  bitter, 
low,  harassing  servitude,  every  nerve  dampened  and  de 
pressed,  every  power  of  feeling  gradually  smothered,  —  this 
long  and  wasting  heart-martyrdom,  this  slow,  daily  bleeding 
away  of  the  inward  life,  drop  by  drop,  hour  after  hour,  — 
this  is  the  true  searching  test  of  what  there  may  be  in  man 
or  woman. 

When  Tom  stood  face  to  face  with  his  persecutor,  and 
heard  his  threats,  and  thought  in  his  very  soul  that  his  hour 
was  come,  his  heart  swelled  bravely  in  him,  and  he  thought 
he  could  bear  torture  and  fire,  bear  anything  with  the  vision 
of  Jesus  and  heaven  but  just  a  step  beyond ;  but,  when  he 
was  gone,  and  the  present  excitement  passed  off,  came  back 
the  pain  of  his  bruised  and  weary  limbs,  —  came  back  the 
sense  of  his  utterly  degraded,  hopeless,  forlorn  estate  ;  and 
the  day  passed  wearily  enough. 

Long  before  his  wounds  were  healed,  Legree  insisted  that 
he  should  be  put  to  the  regular  field-work  j  and  then  came 


174  UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  ;    OR 

day  after  day  of  pain  and  weariness,  aggravated  by  every 
kind  of  injustice  and  indignity  that  the  ill  will  of  a  mean 
and  malicious  mind  could  devise.  Whoever,  in  our  circum 
stances,  has  made  trial  of  pain,  even  with  all  the  alleviations 
which,  for  us,  usually  attend  it,  must  know  the  irritation 
that  comes  with  it.  Tom  no  longer  wondered  at  the  habit 
ual  surliness  of  his  associates ;  nay,  he  found  the  placid, 
sunny  temper,  which  had  been  the  habitude  of  his  life, 
broken  in  on,  and  sorely  strained,  by  the  inroads  of  the  same 
thing.  He  had  flattered  himself  on  leisure  to  read  his  Bible  ; 
but  there  was  no  such  thing  as  leisure  there.  In  the  height 
of  the  season,  Legree  did  not  hesitate  to  press  all  his  hands 
through,  Sundays  and  week-days  alike.  Why  should  n't 
he  ?  —  he  made  more  cotton  by  it,  and  gained  his  wager ; 
and  if  it  wore  out  a  few  more  hands,  he  could  buy  better 
ones".  At  first,  Tom  used  to  read  a  verse  or  two  of  his 
Bible,  by  the  flicker  of  the  fire,  after  he  had  returned  from 
his  daily  toil ;  but,  after  the  cruel  treatment  he  received,  he 
used  to  come  home  so  exhausted  that  his  head  swam  and 
his  eyes  failed  when  he  tried  to  read  j  and  he  was  fain  to 
stretch  himself  down,  with  the  others,  in  utter  exhaustion. 

Is  it  strange  that  the  religious  peace  and  trust,  which  had 
upborne  him  hitherto,  should  give  way  to  tossings  of  soul 
and  despondent  darkness  ?  The  gloomiest  problem  of  this 
mysterious  life  was  constantly  before  his  eyes,  —  souls 
crushed  and  ruined,  evil  triumphant,  and  God  silent.  It 
was  weeks  and  months  that  Tom  wrestled  in  his  own  soul, 
in  darkness  and  sorrow.  He  thought  of  Miss  Ophelia's 
letter  to  his  Kentucky  friends,  and  would  pray  earnestly 
that  God  would  send  him  deliverance.  And  then  he  would 
watch  day  after  day,  in  the  vague  hope  of  seeing  somebody 
sent  to  redeem  him  ;  and,  when  nobody  came,  he  would  crush 
back  to  his  soul  bitter  thoughts,  —  that  it  was  vain  to  serve 
God,  that  God  had  forgotten  him.  He  sometimes  saw 
Cassy ;  and  sometimes,  when  summoned  to  the  house, 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  175 

caught  a  glimpse  of  the  dejected  form  of  Emmeline,  but 
held  very  little  communion  with  either ;  in  fact,  there  was 
no  time  for  him  to  commune  with  anybody. 

One  evening,  he  was  sitting,  in  utter  dejection  and  pros 
tration,  by  a  few  decaying  brands,  where  his  coarse  supper 
was  baking.  He  put  a  few  bits  of  brushwood  on  the  fire, 
and  strove  to  raise  the  light,  and  then  drew  his  worn  Bible 
from  his  pocket.  There  were  all  the  marked  passages, 
which  had  thrilled  his  soul  so  often,  —  words  of  patriarchs 
and  seers,  poets  and  sages,  who  from  early  time  had  spoken 
courage  to  man,  —  voices  from  the  great  cloud  of  witnesses 
who  ever  surround  us  in  the  race  of  life.  Had  the  word 
lost  its  power,  or  could  the  failing  eye  and  weary  sense  no 
longer  answer  to  the  touch  of  that  mighty  inspiration  ? 
Heavily  sighing,  he  put  it  in  his  pocket.  A  coarse  laugh 
roused  him  ;  he  looked  up,  —  Legree  was  standing  opposite 
to  him. 

"  Well,  old  boy/'  he  said,  "  you  find  your  religion  don't 
work,  it  seems  !  I  thought  I  should  get  that  through  your 
wool  at  last !  " 

The  cruel  taunt  was  more  than  hunger  and  cold  and 
nakedness.  Tom  was  silent. 

"  You  were  a  fool,"  said  Legree ;  "  for  I  meant  to  do 
well  by  you,  when  I  bought  you.  You  might  have  been 
better  off  than  Sambo  or  Quimbo  either,  and  had  easy 
times ;  and,  instead  of  getting  cut  up  and  thrashed  every 
day  or  two,  ye  might  have  had  liberty  to  lord  it  round, 
and  cut  up  the  other  niggers  ;  and  ye  might  have  had  now 
and  then  a  good  warming  of  whiskey  punch.  Come,  Tom, 
don't  you  think  you  'd  better  be  reasonable  ?  —  heave  that 
ar  old  pack  of  trash  in  the  fire,  and  join  my  church !  " 

"  The  Lord  forbid  !  "  said  Tom  fervently. 

"  You  see  the  Lord  ain't  going  to  help  you ;  if  he  had 
been,  he  would  n't  have  let  me  get  you  !  This  yer  reli 
gion  is  all  a  mess  of  lying  trumpery,  Tom.  I  know  all 


176  UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

about  it.  Ye  'd  better  hold  to  me.  I  'm  somebody,  and 
can  do  something  !  " 

"No,  Mas'r,"  said  Tom;  "I'll  hold  on.  The  Lord 
may  help  me,  or  not  help  ;  but  I  '11  hold  to  him,  and  be 
lieve  him  to  the  last !  " 

"  The  more  fool  you  !  "  said  Legree,  spitting  scornfully  at 
him,  and  spurning  him  with  his  foot.  "  Never  mind  ;  I  '11 
chase  you  down  yet,  and  bring  you  under,  —  you  '11  see  !  " 
and  Legree  turned  away. 

When  a  heavy  weight  presses  the  soul  to  the  lowest 
level  at  which  endurance  is  possible,  there  is  an  instant  and 
desperate  effort  of  every  physical  and  moral  nerve  to  throw 
off  the  weight ;  and  hence  the  heaviest  anguish  often  pre 
cedes  a  return  tide  of  joy  and  courage.  So  was  it  now  with 
Tom.  The  atheistic  taunts  of  his  cruel  master  sunk  his  be 
fore  dejected  soul  to  the  lowest  ebb  ;  and,  though  the  hand 
of  faith  still  held  to  the  eternal  rock,  it  was  with  a  numb, 
despairing  grasp.  Tom  sat,  like  one  stunned,  at  the  fire. 
Suddenly  everything  around  him  seemed  to  fade,  and  a 
vision  rose  before  him  of  one  crowned  with  thorns,  buffeted 
and  bleeding.  Tom  gazed,  in  awe  and  wonder,  at  the  ma 
jestic  patience  of  the  face  ;  the  deep,  pathetic  eyes  thrilled 
him  to  his  inmost  heart ;  his  soul  woke  as,  with  floods  of 
emotion,  he  stretched  out  his  hands  and  fell  upon  his  knees, 
—  when,  gradually,  the  vision  changed  :  the  sharp  thorns 
became  rays  of  glory,  and,  in  splendor  inconceivable,  he 
saw  that  same  face  bending  compassionately  towards  him, 
and  a  voice  said,  "  He  that  overcometh  shall  sit  down  with 
me  on  my  throne,  even  as  I  also  overcame,  and  am  set  down 
with  my  Father  on  his  throne." 

How  long  Tom  lay  there  he  knew  not.  When  he  came 
to  himself,  the  fire  was  gone  out,  his  clothes  were  wet  with 
the  chill  and  drenching  dews ;  but  the  dread  soul-crisis  was 
past,  and,  in  the  joy  that  filled  him,  he  no  longer  felt  hun 
ger,  cold,  degradation,  disappointment,  wretchedness.  From 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  177 

his  deepest  soul,  he  that  hour  loosed  and  parted  from  every 
hope  in  the  life  that  now  is,  and  offered  his  own  will  an  un 
questioning  sacrifice  to  the  Infinite.  Tom  looked  up  to  the 
silent,  ever-living  stars,  —  types  of  the  angelic  hosts  who  ever 
look  down  on  man  ;  and  the  solitude  of  the  night  rung  with 
the  triumphant  words  of  a  hymn  which  he  had  sung  often 
in  happier  days,  but  never  with  such  feeling  as  now :  — 

"  The  earth  shall  be  dissolved  like  snow, 

The  sun  shall  cease  to  shine  ; 
But  God,  who  called  me  here  below, 
Shall  be  forever  mine. 

"And  when  this  mortal  life  shall  fail, 

And  flesh  and  sense  shall  cease, 
I  shall  possess  within  the  veil 
A  life  of  joy  and  peace. 

"  When  we  've  been  there  ten  thousand  years, 

Bright  shining  like  the  sun, 
We've  no  less  days  to  sing  God's  praise, 
Than  when  we  first  begun." 

Those  who  have  been  familiar  with  the  religious  histories 
of  the  slave  population  know  that  relations  like  what  we 
have  narrated  are  very  common  among  them.  We  have 
heard  some  from  their  own  lips,  of  a  very  touching  and 
affecting  character.  The  psychologist  tells  us  of  a  state, 
in  which  the  affections  and  images  of  the  mind  become  so 
dominant  and  overpowering,  that  they  press  into  their  ser 
vice  the  outward  senses,  and  make  them  give  tangible  shape 
to  the  inward  imagining.  Who  shall  measure  what  an 
all-pervading  Spirit  may  do  with  these  capabilities  of  our 
mortality,  or  the  ways  in  which  he  may  encourage  the  de 
sponding  souls  of  the  desolate  ?  If  the  poor  forgotten  slave 
believes  that  Jesus  hath  appeared  and  spoken  to  him,  who 
shall  contradict  him  ?  Did  He  not  say  that  his  mission,  in 
all  ages,  was  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  and  set  at  lib 
erty  them  that  are  bruised  ? 

When  the  dim  gray  of  dawn  woke  the  slumberers  to  go 

VOL.  II. 


178  UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

forth  to  the  field,  there  was  among  those  tattered  and  shiv 
ering  wretches  one  who  walked  with  an  exultant  tread ;  for 
firmer  than  the  ground  he  trod  on  was  his  strong  faith  in 
almighty,  eternal  love.  Ah,  Legree,  try  all  your  forces 
now !  Utmost  agony,  woe,  degradation,  want,  and  loss  of 
all  things  shall  only  hasten  on  the  process  by  which  he 
shall  be  made  a  king  and  a  priest  unto  God ! 

From  this  time  an  inviolable  sphere  of  peace  encompassed 
the  lowly  heart  of  the  oppressed  one,  —  an  ever-present 
Saviour  hallowed  it  as  a  temple.  Past  now  the  bleeding 
of  earthly  regrets  ;  past  its  fluctuations  of  hope,  and  fear, 
and  desire  ;  the  human  will,  bent,  and  bleeding,  and  strug 
gling  long,  was  now  entirely  merged  in  the  Divine.  So 
short  now  seemed  the  remaining  voyage  of  life,  —  so  near, 
so  vivid,  seemed  eternal  blessedness,  —  that  life's  uttermost 
woes  fell  from  him  unharming. 

All  noticed  the  change  in  his  appearance.  Cheerfulness 
and  alertness  seemed  to  return  to  him,  and  a  quietness 
which  no  insult  or  injury  could  ruffle  seemed  to  possess  him. 

"  What  the  devil  's  got  into  Tom  ?  "  Legree  said  to 
Sambo.  "  A  while  ago  he  was  all  down  in  the  mouth,  and 
now  he  's  peart  as  a  cricket." 

"  Dunno,  Mas'r  ;  gwine  to  run  off,  mebbe." 

"  Like  to  see  him  try  that,"  said  Legree,  with  a  savage 
grin,  "  would  n't  we,  Sambo  ?  " 

"  Guess  we  would  !  Haw  !  haw  !  ho  !  "  said  the  sooty 
gnome,  laughing  obsequiously.  "  Lord,  de  fun  !  To  see 
him  stickin'  in  de  mud,  —  chasin'  and  tarin'  through  de 
bushes,  dogs  a-holdin'  on  to  him !  Lord,  I  laughed  fit  to 
split,  dat  ar  time  we  cotched  Molly.  I  thought  they  'd  'a' 
had  her  all  stripped  up  afore  I  could  get  'em  off.  She  car's 
de  marks  o'  dat  ar  spree  yet." 

"  I  reckon  she  will,  to  her  grave,"  said  Legree.  "  But 
now,  Sambo,  you  look  sharp.  If  the  nigger  7s  got  anything 
of  this  sort  going,  trip  him  up." 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  179 

"  Mas'r,  let  me  'lone  for  dat,"  said  Sambo.  "  I  '11  tree 
de  coon.  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  " 

This  was  spoken  as  Legree  was  getting  on  to  his  horse 
to  go  to  the  neighboring  town.  That  night,  as  he  was  re 
turning,  he  thought  he  would  turn  his  horse  and  ride  round 
the  quarters,  and  see  if  all  was  safe. 

It  was  a  superb  moonlight  night,  and  the  shadows  of 
the  graceful  China-trees  lay  minutely  penciled  on  the  turf 
below,  and  there  was  that  transparent  stillness  in  the  air 
which  it  seems  almost  unholy  to  disturb.  Legree  was  at 
a  little  distance  from  the  quarters,  wnen  he  heard  the  voice 
of  some  one  singing.  It  was  not  a  usual  sound  there,  and 
he  paused  to  listen.  A  musical  tenor  voice  sang  :  — 

"When  I  can  read  my  title  clear 

To  mansions  in  the  skies, 
I  '11  bid  farewell  to  every  fear, 
And  wipe  my  weeping  eyes. 

"Should  earth  against  my  soul  engage, 

And  hellish  darts  be  hurled, 

Then  I  can  smile  at  Satan's  rage, 

And  face  a  frowning  world. 

"Let  cares  like  a  wild  deluge  come, 

And  storms  of  sorrow  fall, 
May  I  but  safely  reach  my  home, 
My  God,  my  Heaven,  1113^  All." 

"  So  ho  !  "  said  Legree  to  himself  ;  "  he  thinks  so,  does 
he  ?  How  I  hate  these  cursed  Methodist  hymns  !  Here, 
you  nigger,"  said  he,  coming  suddenly  out  upon  Tom,  and 
raising  his  riding- whip,  "  how  dare  you  be  gettin'  up  this 
yer  row,  when  you  ought  to  be  in  bed  ?  Shut  yer  old 
black  gash,  and  get  along  in  with  you !  " 

"  Yes,  Mas'r,"  said  Tom,  with  ready  cheerfulness,  as  he 
rose  to  go  in. 

Legree  was  provoked  beyond  measure  by  Tom's  evident 
happiness  ;  and,  riding  up  to  him,  belabored  him  over  his 
head  and  shoulders. 


180  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  There,  you  dog,"  he  said,  "  see  if  you  '11  feel  so  com 
fortable  after  that !  " 

But  the  blows  fell  now  only  on  the  outer  man,  and  not, 
as  before,  on  the  heart.  Tom  stood  perfectly  submissive ;  and 
yet  Legree  could  not  hide  from  himself  that  his  power  over 
his  bond  thrall  was  somehow  gone.  And  as  Tom  disap 
peared  in  his  cabin,  and  he  wheeled  his  horse  suddenly  round, 
there  passed  through  his  mind  one  of  those  vivid  flashes  that 
often  send  the  lightning  of  conscience  across  the  dark  and 
wicked  soul.  He  understood  full  well  that  it  was  GOD  who 
was  standing  between  him  and  his  victim,  and  he  blasphemed 
him.  That  submissive  and  silent  man,  whom  taunts,  nor 
threats,  nor  stripes,  nor  cruelties  could  disturb,  roused  a 
voice  within  him,  such  as  of  old  his  Master  roused  in  the 
demoniac  soul,  saying,  "  What  have  we  to  do  with  thee, 
thou  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ?  art  thou  come  to  torment  us  before 
the  time  ?  " 

Tom's  whole  soul  overflowed  with  compassion  and  sympa 
thy  for  the  poor  wretches  by  whom  he  was  surrounded.  To 
him  it  seemed  as  if  his  life  sorrows  were  now  over,  and  as 
if,  out  of  that  strange  treasury  of  peace  and  joy,  with  which 
he  had  been  endowed  from  above,  he  longed  to  pour  out 
something  for  the  relief  of  their  woes.  It  is  true,  oppor 
tunities  were  scanty  ;  but  on  the  way  to  the  fields  and  back 
again,  and  during  the  hours  of  labor,  chances  fell  in  his 
way  of  extending  a  helping  hand  to  the  weary,  the  disheart 
ened  and  discouraged.  The  poor,  worn-down,  brutalized 
creatures  at  first  could  scarce  comprehend  this  ;  but  when 
it  was  continued  week  after  week  and  month  after  month, 
it  began  to  awaken  long-silent  chords  in  their  benumbed 
hearts.  Gradually  and  imperceptibly  the  strange,  silent, 
patient  man,  who  was  ready  to  bear  every  one's  burden,  and 
sought  help  from  none,  —  who  stood  aside  for  all,  and  came 
last  and  took  least,  yet  was  foremost  to  share  his  little  all 
with  any  who  needed,  —  the  man  who  in  cold  nights  would 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  181 

give  up  his  tattered  blanket  to  add  to  the  comfort  of  some 
woman  who  shivered  with  sickness,  and  who  filled  the  bas 
kets  of  the  weaker  ones  in  the  field,  at  the  terrible  risk  of 
coming  short  in  his  own  measure,  —  and  who,  though  pur 
sued  with  unrelenting  cruelty  by  their  common  tyrant,  never 
joined  in  uttering  a  word  of  reviling  or  cursing,  — this  man 
at  last  began  to  have  a  strange  power  over  them  ;  and  when 
the  more  pressing  season  was  past,  and  they  were  allowed 
again  their  Sundays  for  their  own  use,  many  would  gather 
together  to  hear  from  him  of  Jesus.  They  would  gladly 
have  met  to  hear,  and  pray,  and  sing,  in  some  place,  together  j 
but  Legree  would  not  permit  it,  and  more  than  once  broke 
up  such  attempts,  with  oaths  and  brutal  execrations,  —  so 
that  the  blessed  news  had  to  circulate  from  individual  to 
individual.  Yet  who  can  speak  the  simple  joy  with  which 
some  of  these  poor  outcasts,  to  whom  life  was  a  joyless  jour 
ney  to  a  dark  unknown,  heard  of  a  compassionate  Redeemer 
and  a  heavenly  home  ?  It  is  the  statement  of  missionaries 
that,  of  all  races  of  the  earth,  none  have  received  the  gospel 
with  such  eager  docility  as  the  African.  The  principle  of 
reliance  and  unquestioning  faith,  which  is  its  foundation,  is 
more  a  native  element  in  this  race  than  any  other  ;  and  it 
has  often  been  found  among  them  that  a  stray  seed  of  truth, 
borne  on  some  breeze  of  accident  into  hearts  the  most  igno 
rant,  has  sprung  up  into  fruit,  whose  abundance  has  shamed 
that  of  higher  and  more  skillful  culture. 

The  poor  mulatto  woman,  whose  simple  faith  had  been 
well-nigh  crushed  and  overwhelmed  by  the  avalanche  of 
cruelty  and  wrong  which  had  fallen  upon  her,  felt  her  soul 
raised  up  by  the  hymns  and  passages  of  Holy  Writ,  which 
this  lowly  missionary  breathed  into  her  ear  in  intervals,  as 
they  were  going  to  and  returning  from  work ;  and  even  the 
half-crazed  and  wandering  mind  of  Cassy  was  soothed  and 
calmed  by  his  simple  and  unobtrusive  influences. 

Stung  to  madness  and  despair  by  the  crushing  agonies  of 


182  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OK 

a  life,  Cassy  had  often  resolved  in  her  soul  an  hour  of 
retribution,  when  her  hand  should  avenge  on  her  oppressor 
all  the  injustice  and  cruelty  to  which  she  had  been  witness, 
or  which  she  had  in  her  own  person  suffered. 

One  night,  after  all  in  Tom's  cabin  were  sunk  in  sleep, 
he  was  suddenly  aroused  by  seeing  her  face  at  the  hole 
between  the  logs,  that  served  for  a  window.  She  made  a 
silent  gesture  for  him  to  come  out. 

Tom  came  out  the  door.  It  was  between  one  and  two 
o'clock  at  night,  —  broad,  calm,  still  moonlight.  Tom  re 
marked,  as  the  light  of  the  moon  fell  upon  Cassy's  large 
black  eyes,  that  there  was  a  wild  and  peculiar  glare  in  them, 
unlike  their  wonted  fixed  despair. 

"  Come  here,  Father  Tom,"  she  said,  laying  her  small 
hand  on  his  wrist,  and  drawing  him  forward  with  a  force 
as  if  the  hand  were  of  steel  j  "  come  here,  —  I  've  news 
for  you." 

"  What,  Misse  Cassy  ?  "   said  Tom  anxiously. 

"  Tom,  would  n't  you  like  your  liberty  ?  " 

"  I  shall  have  it,  Misse,  in  God's  time,"  said  Tom. 

"  Ay,  but  you  may  have  it  to-night,"  said  Cassy,  with 
a  flash  of  sudden  energy.  "  Come  on." 

Tom  hesitated. 

"  Come  !  "  said  she  in  a  whisper,  fixing  her  black  eyes 
on  him.  "  Come  along  !  He  's  asleep  —  sound.  I  put 
enough  into  his  brandy  to  keep  him  so.  I  wish  I  'd  had 
more,  —  I  should  n't  have  wanted  you.  But  come,  the 
back  door  is  unlocked ;  there  's  an  axe  there  —  I  put  it  there, 
—  his  room  door  is  open;  I'll  show  you  the  way.  I'd 
'a'  done  it  myself,  only  my  arms  are  so  weak.  Come 
along !  " 

"  Not  for  ten  thousand  worlds,  Misse  !  "  said  Tom  firmly, 
stopping  and  holding  her  back,  as  she  was  pressing  forward. 

"  But  think  of  all  these  poor  creatures,"  said  Cassy. 
"We  might  set  them  all  free,  and  go  somewhere  in  the 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  183 

swamps,  and  find  an  island,  and  live  by  ourselves ;  I  've 
heard  of  its  being  done.  Any  life  is  better  than  this." 

"No!"  said  Tom  firmly.  "No!  good  never  comes  of 
wickedness.  I  'd  sooner  chop  my  right  hand  off !  " 

"  Then  /  shall  do  it,"   said  Gassy,  turning. 

"  Oh,  Misse  Gassy  !  "  said  Tom,  throwing  himself  before 
her,  "  for  the  dear  Lord's  sake  that  died  for  ye,  don't  sell 
your  precious  soul  to  the  devil  that  way  !  Nothing  but  evil 
will  come  of  it.  The  Lord  has  n't  called  us  to  wrath.  We 
must  suffer,  and  wait  his  time." 

"  Wait !  "  said  Gassy.  "  Have  n't  I  waited  ?  —  waited 
till  my  head  is  dizzy  and  my  heart  sick  ?  What  has  he 
made  me  suffer  ?  What  has  he  made  hundreds  of  poor  crea 
tures  suffer  ?  Is  n't  he  wringing  the  life-blood  out  of  you  ? 
I  'm  called  on  ;  they  call  me  !  His  time  's  come,  and  I  '11 
have  his  heart's  blood  !  " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  said  Tom,  holding  her  small  hands,  which 
were  clenched  with  spasmodic  violence.  "  No,  ye  poor,  lost 
soul,  that  ye  must  n't  do.  The  dear,  blessed  Lord  never 
shed  no  blood  but  his  own,  and  that  he  poured  out  for  us 
when  we  was  enemies.  Lord,  help  us  to  follow  his  steps, 
and  love  our  enemies." 

"  Love  !  "  said  Gassy,  with  a  fierce  glare  ;  "  love  such 
enemies !  It  is  n't  in  flesh  and  blood." 

"  No,  Misse,  it  is  n't,"  said  Tom,  looking  up ;  "  but  He 
gives  it  to  us,  and  that's  the  victory.  When  we  can  love 
and  pray  over  all,  and  through  all,  the  battle  's  past,  and  the 
victory  's  come,  —  glory  be  to  God  !  "  And  with  streaming 
eyes  and  choking  voice  the  black  man  looked  up  to  heaven. 

And  this,  0  Africa !  latest  called  of  nations,  —  called 
to  the  crown  of  thorns,  the  scourge,  the  bloody  sweat,  the 
cross  of  agony,  —  this  is  to  be  thy  victory  5  by  this  shalt  thou 
reign  with  Christ  when  his  kingdom  shall  come  on  earth. 

The  deep  fervor  of  Tom's  feelings,  the  softness  of  his 
voice,  his  tears,  fell  like  dew  on  the  wild,  unsettled  spirit  of 


184  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

the  poor  woman.  A  softness  gathered  over  the  lurid  fires 
of  her  eyes  ;  she  looked  down,  and  Tom  could  feel  the  relax 
ing  muscles  of  her  hands,  as  she  said,  — 

"  Did  n't  I  tell  you  that  evil  spirits  followed  me  ?  Oh, 
Father  Tom,  I  can't  pray,  —  I  wish  I  could.  I  never  have 
prayed  since  my  children  were  sold !  'What  you  say  must 
be  right,  I  know  it  must ;  but  when  I  try  to  pray,  I  can 
only  hate  and  curse.  I  can't  pray  !  " 

"  Poor  soul !  "  said  Tom  compassionately.  "  Satan  desires 
to  have  ye,  and  sift  ye  as  wheat.  I  pray  the  Lord  for  ye. 
Oh,  Misse  Gassy,  turn  to  the  dear  Lord  Jesus.  He  came 
to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  and  comfort  all  that  mourn." 

Gassy  stood  silent,  while  large,  heavy  tears  dropped  from 
her  downcast  eyes. 

"  Misse  Gassy,"  said  Tom,  in  a  hesitating  tone,  after  sur 
veying  her  a  moment  in  silence,  "  if  ye  only  could  get  away 
from  here,  —  if  the  thing  was  possible,  —  1  'd  'vise  ye  and 
Emmeline  to  do  it ;  that  is,  if  ye  could  go  without  blood- 
guiltiness,  —  not  otherwise." 

"  Would  you  try  with  us,  Father  Tom  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom ;  "  time  was  when  I  would ;  but  the 
Lord  's  given  me  a  work  among  these  yer  poor  souls,  and 
I  '11  stay  with  'em  and  bear  my  cross  with  ?em  till  the  end. 
It 's  different  with  you  ;  it 's  a  snare  to  you,  it 's  more  'n  you 
can  stand,  —  and  you  'd  better  go,  if  you  can." 

"  I  know  no  way  but  through  the  grave,"  said  Gassy. 
"  There  's  no  beast  or  bird  but  can  find  a  home  somewhere  ; 
even  the  snakes  and  the  alligators  have  their  places  to  lie 
down  and  be  quiet ;  but  there  's  no  place  for  us.  Down  in 
the  darkest  swamps  their  dogs  will  hunt  us  out,  and  find 
us.  Everybody  and  everything  is  against  us  ;  even  the 
very  beasts  side  against  us,  —  and  where  shall  we  go  ?  " 

Tom  stood  silent ;  at  length  he  said,  — 

"  Him  that  saved  Daniel  in  the  den  of  lions,  —  that  saved 
the  children  in  the  fiery  furnace,  —  him  that  walked  on  the 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  LOWLY  185 

sea,  and  bade  the  winds  be  still,  —  he  's  alive  yet ;  and  I  've 
faith  to  believe  he  can  deliver  you.  Try  it,  and  I  '11  pray, 
with  all  my  might,  for  you." 

By  what  strange  law  of  mind  is  it  that  an  idea  long  over 
looked,  and  trodden  under  foot  as  a  useless  stone,  suddenly 
sparkles  out  in  new  light,  as  a  discovered  diamond  ? 

Cassy  had  often  revolved,  for  hours,  all  possible  or  pro 
bable  schemes  of  escape,  and  dismissed  them  all,  as  hopeless 
and  impracticable  ;  but  at  this  moment  there  flashed  through 
her  mind  a  plan,  so  simple  and  feasible  in  all  its  details  as 
to  awaken  an  instant  hope. 

"  Father  Tom,  I  '11  try  it !  "   she  said  suddenly. 

"  Amen  !  "   said  Tom  ;   "  the  Lord  help  ye  !  " 


186  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

THE    STRATAGEM 

"  The  way  of  the  wicked  is  as  darkness  ;  he  knoweth  not  at  what  he 
stumbleth." 

THE  garret  of  the  house  that  Legree  occupied,  like  most 
other  garrets,  was  a  great,  desolate  space,  dusty,  hung  with 
cobwebs,  and  littered  with  cast-off  lumber.  The  opulent 
family  that  had  inhabited  the  house  in  the  days  of  its  splen 
dor  had  imported  a  great  deal  of  splendid  furniture,  some  of 
which  they  had  taken  away  with  them,  while  some  remained 
standing  desolate  in  mouldering,  unoccupied  rooms,  or  stored 
away  in  this  place.  One  or  two  immense  packing-boxes,  in 
which  this  furniture  was  brought,  stood  against  the  sides  of 
the  garret.  There  was  a  small  window  there,  which  let  in 
through  its  dingy,  dusty  panes  a  scanty,  uncertain  light  on 
the  tall,  high-backed  chairs  and  dusty  tables,  that  had  once 
seen  better  days.  Altogether,  it  was  a  weird  and  ghostly 
place  ;  but,  ghostly  as  it  was,  it  wanted  not  in  legends  among 
the  superstitious  negroes,  to  increase  its  terrors.  Some  few 
years  before,  a  negro  woman,  who  had  incurred  Legree's  dis 
pleasure,  was  confined  there  for  several  weeks.  What  passed 
there,  we  do  not  say  ;  the  negroes  used  to  whisper  darkly 
to  each  other  ;  but  it  was  known  that  the  body  of  the  unfor 
tunate  creature  was  one  day  taken  down  from  there  and  bur 
ied  ;  and  after  that,  it  was  said  that  oaths  and  cursings,  and 
the  sound  of  violent  blows,  used  to  ring  through  that  old 
garret,  and  mingled  with  wailings  and  groans  of  despair. 
Once,  when  Legree  chanced  to  overhear  something  of  this 
kind,  he  flew  into  a  violent  passion,  and  swore  that  the  next 


LIFE   AMONG    THE   LOWLY  187 

one  that  told  stories  about  that  garret  should  have  an  op 
portunity  of  knowing  what  was  there,  for  he  would  chain 
them  up  there  for  a  week.  This  hint  was  enough  to  repress 
talking,  though,  of  course,  it  did  not  disturb  the  credit  of 
the  story  in  the  least. 

Gradually,  the  staircase  that  led  to  the  garret,  and  even 
the  passage-way  to  the  staircase,  was  avoided  by  every  one 
in  the  house,  from  every  one  fearing  to  speak  of  it,  and  the 
legend  was  gradually  falling  into  desuetude.  It  had  sud 
denly  occurred  to  Gassy  to  make  use  of  the  superstitious 
excitability,  which  was  so  great  in  Legree,  for  the  purpose 
of  her  liberation  and  that  of  her  fellow  sufferer. 

The  sleeping-room  of  Cassy  was  directly  under  the  garret. 
One  day,  without  consulting  Legree,  she  suddenly  took  it 
upon  her,  with  some  considerable  ostentation,  to  change  all 
the  furniture  and  appurtenances  of  the  room  to  one  at  some 
considerable  distance.  The  under-servants,  who  were  called 
on  to  effect  this  movement,  were -running  and  bustling  about 
with  great  zeal  and  confusion,  when  Legree  returned  from 
a  ride. 

"  Hallo  !  you  Cass !  "  said  Legree,  "  what 's  in  the  wind 
now  ?  " 

"  Nothing ;  only  I  choose  to  have  another  room,"  said 
Cassy  doggedly. 

"  And  what  for,  pray  ?  "  said  Legree. 

"  I  choose  to,"  said  Cassy. 

"  The  devil  you  do  !  and  what  for  ?  " 

"  I  ?d  like  to  get  some  sleep  now  and  then." 

"  Sleep  !   well,  what  hinders  your  sleeping  ?  " 

"  I  could  tell,  I  suppose,  if  you  want  to  hear,"  said 
Cassy  dryly. 

"  Speak  out,  you  minx  !  "  said  Legree. 

"  Oh  !  nothing.  I  suppose  it  would  n't  disturb  you ! 
Only  groans,  and  people  scuffing,  and  rolling  round  on  the 
garret  floor,  half  the  night,  from  twelve  to  morning !  " 


188  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  People  up  garret  !  "  said  Legree  uneasily,  but  forcing 
a  laugh ;  "  who  are  they,  Gassy  ?  " 

Cassy  raised  her  sharp,  black  eyes,  and  looked  in  the 
face  of  Legree  with  an  expression  that  went  through  his 
bones  as  she  said,  "  To  be  sure,  Simon,  who  are  they  ? 
I  'd  like  to  have  you  tell  me.  You  don't  know,  I  sup 
pose  !  " 

With  an  oath,  Legree  struck  at  her  with  his  riding-whip ; 
but  she  glided  to  one  side,  and  passed  through  the  door, 
and  looking  back,  said,  "  If  you  '11  sleep  in  that  room,  you  '11 
know  all  about  it.  Perhaps  you  'd  better  try  it !  "  and 
then  immediately  she  shut  and  locked  the  door. 

Legree  blustered  and  swore,  and  threatened  to  break 
down  the  door  ;  but  apparently  thought  better  of  it,  and 
walked  uneasily  into  the  sitting-room.  Cassy  perceived 
that  her  shaft  had  struck  home  ;  and  from  that  hour,  with 
the  most  exquisite  address,  she  never  ceased  to  continue 
the  train  of  influences  she  had  begun. 

In  a  knot-hole  in  the  garret  she  had  inserted  the  neck 
of  an  old  bottle,  in  such  a  manner  that  when  there  was  the 
least  wind  most  doleful  and  lugubrious  wailing  sounds  pro 
ceeded  from  it,  which,  in  a  high  wind,  increased  to  a  perfect 
shriek,  such  as  to  credulous  and  superstitious  ears  might 
easily  seem  to  be  that  of  horror  and  despair. 

These  sounds  were  from  time  to  time  heard  by  the  ser 
vants,  and  revived  in  full  force  the  memory  of  the  old  ghost 
legend.  A  superstitious  creeping  horror  seemed  to  fill  the 
house  ;  and  though  no  one  dared  to  breathe  it  to  Legree,  he 
found  himself  encompassed  by  it,  as  by  an  atmosphere. 

No  one  is  so  thoroughly  superstitious  as  the  godless  man. 
The  Christian  is  composed  by  the  belief  of  a  wise,  all-ruling 
Father,  whose  presence  fills  the  void  unknown  with  light 
and  order ;  but  to  the  man  who  has  dethroned  God,  the 
spirit  land  is,  indeed,  in  the  words  of  the  Hebrew  poet,  "  a 
land  of  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death/'  without  any 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  189 

order,  where  the  light  is  as  darkness.  Life  and  death  to 
him  are  haunted  grounds,  filled  with  goblin  forms  of  vague 
and  shadowy  dread. 

Legree  had  had  the  slumbering  moral  element  in  him 
roused  by  his  encounters  with  Tom,  —  roused,  only  to  be 
resisted  by  the  determinate  force  of  evil ;  but  still  there  was 
a  thrill  and  commotion  of  the  dark,  inner  world  produced 
by  every  word,  or  prayer,  or  hymn,  that  reacted  in  supersti 
tious  dread. 

The  influence  of  Cassy  over  him  was  of  a  strange  and 
singular  kind.  He  was  her  owner,  her  tyrant  and  tormentor. 
She  was,  as  he  knew,  wholly,  and  without  any  possibility 
of  help  or  redress,  in  his  hands ;  and  yet  so  it  is,  that  the 
most  brutal  man  cannot  live  in  constant  association  with  a 
strong  female  influence  and  not  be  greatly  controlled  by  it. 
When  he  first  bought  her,  she  was,  as  she  had  said,  a  woman 
delicately  bred  ;  and  then  he  crushed  her,  without  scruple, 
beneath  the  foot  of  his  brutality.  But  as  time,  and  debas 
ing  influences,  and  despair  hardened  womanhood  within  her, 
and  waked  the  fires  of  fiercer  passions,  she  had  become  in  a 
measure  his  mistress,  and  he  alternately  tyrannized  over  and 
dreaded  her. 

This  influence  had  become  more  harassing  and  decided 
since  partial  insanity  had  given  a  strange,  weird,  unsettled 
cast  to  all  her  words  and  language. 

A  night  or  two  after  this,  Legree  was  sitting  in  the  old 
sitting-room,  by  the  side  of  a  flickering  wood  fire,  that  threw 
uncertain  glances  round  the  room.  It  was  a  stormy,  windy 
night,  such  as  raises  whole  squadrons  of  nondescript  noises 
in  rickety  old  houses.  Windows  were  rattling,  shutters 
flapping,  the  wind  carousing,  rumbling,  and  tumbling  down 
the  chimney,  and  every  once  in  a  while  puffing  out  smoke 
and  ashes,  as  if  a  legion  of  spirits  were  coming  after  them. 
Legree  had  been  casting  up  accounts  and  reading  newspapers 
for  some  hours,  while  Cassy  sat  in  the  corner,  sullenly  look- 


190  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

ing  into  the  fire.  Legree  laid  down  his  paper,  and  seeing 
an  old  book  lying  on  the  table,  which  he  had  noticed  Gassy 
reading  the  first  part  of  the  evening,  took  it  up,  and  began 
to  turn  it  over.  It  was  one  of  those  collections  of  stories 
of  bloody  murders,  ghostly  legends,  and  supernatural  visita 
tions,  which,  coarsely  got  up  and  illustrated,  have  a  strange 
fascination  for  one  who  once  begins  to  read  them. 

Legree  poohed  and  pished,  but  read,  turning  page  after 
page,  till,  finally,  after  reading  some  way,  he  threw  down 
the  book,  with  an  oath. 

"  You  don't  believe  in  ghosts,  do  you,  Cass  ?  "  said  he, 
taking  the  tongs  and  settling  the  fire.  "  I  thought  you  'd 
more  sense  than  to  let  noises  scare  yon" 

"  No  matter  what  I  believe,"  said  Gassy  sullenly. 

"  Fellows  used  to  try  to  frighten  me  with  their  yarns  at 
sea,"  said  Legree.  "  Never  come  it  round  me  that  way. 
I  'm  too  tough  for  any  such  trash,  tell  ye." 

Gassy  sat  looking  intensely  at  him  in  the  shadow  of  the 
corner.  There  was  that  strange  light  in  her  eyes  that  always 
impressed  Legree  with  uneasiness. 

"  Them  noises  was  nothing  but  rats  and  the  wind,"  said 
Legree.  "  Eats  will  make  a  dovil  of  a  noise.  I  used  to  hear 
?em  sometimes  down  in  the  hold  of  the  ship ;  and  wind,  — 
Lord's  sake  !  ye  can  make  anything  out  o'  wind." 

Gassy  knew  Legree  was  uneasy  under  her  eyes,  and,  there 
fore,  she  made  no  answer,  but  sat  fixing  them  on  him,  with 
that  strange,  unearthly  expression  as  before. 

"  Come,  speak  out,  woman,  —  don't  you  think  so  ?  "  said 
Legree. 

"  Can  rats  walk  downstairs,  and  come  walking  through 
the  entry,  and  open  a  door  when  you  've  locked  it  and  set  a 
chair  against  it  ?  "  said  Gassy  ;  "  and  come  walk,  walk,  walk 
ing  right  up  to  your  bed,  and  put  out  their  hand,  so  ?  " 

Gassy  kept  her  glittering  eyes  fixed  on  Legree,  as  she 
spoke,  and  he  stared  at  her  like  a  man  in  the  nightmare,  till, 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  191 

when  she  finished  by  laying  her  hand,  icy  cold,  on  his,  he 
sprung  back,  with  an  oath. 

"  Woman !   what  do  you  mean  ?     Nobody  did  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  —  of  course  not,  —  did  I  say  they  did  ?  "  said 
Cassy  with  a  smile  of  chilling  derision. 

"  But  —  did  —  have  you  really  seen  ?  —  Come,  Cass, 
what  is  it,  now,  —  speak  out !  " 

"  You  may  sleep  there  yourself,"  said  Cassy,  "  if  you 
want  to  know." 

"  Did  it  come  from  the  garret,  Cassy  ?  " 

"  It  —  what  ?  "  said  Cassy. 

"  Why,  what  you  told  of  "  - 

"  I  did  n't  tell  you  anything,"  said  Cassy  with  dogged 
sullenness. 

Legree  walked  up  and  down  the  room  uneasily. 

"  I  '11  have  this  yer  thing  examined.  I  '11  look  into  it 
this  very  night.  I  '11  take  my  pistols  "  — 

"  Do,"  said  Cassy  ;  "  sleep  in  that  room.  I  'd  like  to  see 
you  doing  it.  Fire  your  pistols,  —  do  !  " 

Legree  stamped  his  foot,  and  swore  violently. 

"  Don't  swear,"  said  Cassy  ;  "  nobody  knows  who  may 
be  hearing  you.  Hark  !  What  was  that  ?  " 

"  What  ?  "  said  Legree,  starting. 

A  heavy  old  Dutch  clock,  that  stood  in  the  corner  of  the 
room,  began,  and  slowly  struck  twelve. 

For  some  reason  or  other,  Legree  neither  spoke  nor 
moved ;  a  vague  horror  fell  on  him  ;  while  Cassy,  with  a 
keen,  sneering  glitter  in  her  eyes,  stood  looking  at  him, 
counting  the  strokes. 

"  Twelve  o'clock  ;  well,  now  we  '11  see,"  said  she,  turn 
ing,  and  opening  the  door  into  the  passage-way,  and  stand 
ing  as  if  listening. 

"  Hark  !     What 's  that  ?  "  said  she,  raising  her  finger. 

"  It 's  only  the  wind,"  said  Legree.  "  Don't  you  hear 
how  cursedly  it  blows  ?  " 


192  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  Simon,  come  here,"  said  Cassy,  in  a  whisper,  laying 
her  hand  on  his,  and  leading  him  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs ; 
"  do  yon  know  what  that  is  ?  Hark  !  " 

A  wild  shriek  came  pealing  down  the  stairway.  It 
came  from  the  garret.  Legree's  knees  knocked  together ; 
his  face  grew  white  with  fear. 

"  Had  n't  you  better  get  your  pistols  ? "  said  Cassy, 
with  a  sneer  that  froze  Legree's  blood.  "  It 's  time  this 
thing  was  looked  into,  you  know.  I  'd  like  to  have  you  go 
up  now  ;  they  're  at  it" 

"  I  won't  go  !  "  said  Legree,  with  an  oath. 

"  Why  not  ?  There  ain't  any  such  thing  as  ghosts,  you 
know  !  Come  !  "  and  Cassy  flitted  up  the  winding  stair 
way,  laughing,  and  looking  back  after  him.  "Come  on." 

"  I  believe  you  are  the  devil !  "  said  Legree.  "  Come 
back,  you  hag,  —  come  back,  Cass  !  You  sha'n't  go  !  " 

But  Cassy  laughed  wildly,  and  fled  on.  He  heard  her 
open  the  entry  doors  that  led  to  the  garret.  A  wild  gust 
of  wind  swept  down,  extinguishing  the  candle  he  held  in 
his  hand,  and  with  it  the  fearful,  unearthly  screams ;  they 
seemed  to  be  shrieked  in  his  very  ear. 

Legree  fled  frantically  into  the  parlor,  whither,  in  a  few 
moments,  he  was  followed  by  Cassy,  pale,  calm,  cold  as  an 
avenging  spirit,  and  with  that  same  fearful  light  in  her 
eye. 

"  I  hope  you  are  satisfied,"  said  she. 

"  Blast  you,  Cass  !  "  said  Legree. 

"  What  for  ?  "  said  Cassy.  "  I  only  went  up  and  shut 
the  doors.  What's  the  matter  with  that  garret,  Simon, 
do  you  suppose  ?  "  said  she. 

"  None  of  your  business  !  "  said  Legree. 

"  Oh,  it  ain't  ?  Well,"  said  Cassy,  "  at  any  rate,  I  'm 
glad  I  don't  sleep  under  it." 

Anticipating  the  rising  of  the  wind,  that  very  evening 
Cassy  had  been  up  and  opened  the  garret  window.  Of 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  193 

course,  the  moment  the  doors  were  opened,  the  wind  had 
drafted  down,  and  extinguished  the  light. 

This  may  serve  as  a  specimen  of  the  game  that  Gassy 
played  with  Legree,  until  he  would  sooner  have  put  his 
head  into  a  lion's  mouth  than  to  have  explored  that  garret. 
Meanwhile,  in  the  night,  when  everybody  else  was  asleep, 
Cassy  slowly  and  carefully  accumulated  there  a  stock  of 
provisions  sufficient  to  afford  subsistence  for  some  time  ;  she 
transferred,  article  by  article,  a  greater  part  of  her  own  and 
Emmeline'a  wardrobe.  All  things  being  arranged,  they  only 
waited  a  fitting  opportunity  to  put  their  plan  in  execution. 

By  cajoling  Legree,  and  taking  advantage  of  a  good-na 
tured  interval,  Gassy  had  got  him  to  take  her  with  him  to  the 
neighboring  town,  which  was  situated  directly  on  the  Red 
River.  With  a  memory  sharpened  to  almost  preternatural 
clearness,  she  remarked  every  turn  in  the  road,  and  formed 
a  mental  estimate  of  the  time  to  be  occupied  in  traversing  it. 

At  the  time  when  all  was  matured  for  action,  our  readers 
may,  perhaps,  like  to  look  behind  the  scenes,  and  see  the 
final  coup  d'etat. 

It  was  now  near  evening.  Legree  had  been  absent,  on  a 
ride  to  a  neighboring  farm.  For  many  days  Cassy  had  been 
unusually  gracious  and  accommodating  in  her  humors ;  and 
Legree  and  she  had  been  apparently  on  the  best  of  terms. 
At  present,  we  may  behold  her  and  Emmeline  in  the 
room  of  the  latter,  busy  in  sorting  and  arranging  two  small 
bundles. 

" There,  these  will  be  large  enough,"  said  Gassy.  "Now 
put  on  your  bonnet,  and  let's  start:  it's  just  about  the 
right  time." 

"  Why,  they  can  see  us  yet,"  said  Emmeline. 

"I  mean  they  shall,"  said  Cassy  coolly.  "Don't  you 
know  that  they  must  have  their  chase  after  us,  at  any  rate  ? 
The  way  of  the  thing  is  to  be  just  this :  We  will  steal  out 
of  the  back  door,  and  run  down  by  the  quarters.  Sambo 

VOL.  II. 


194  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

or  Quimbo  will  be  sure  to  see  us.  They  will  give  chase, 
and  we  will  get  into  the  swamp  ;  then,  they  can't  follow  us 
any  further  till  they  go  up  and  give  the  alarm,  and  turn  out 
the  dogs,  and  so  on ;  and  while  they  are  blundering  round, 
and  tumbling  over  each  other,  as  they  always  do,  you  and 
I  will  just  slip  along  to  the  creek,  that  runs  back  of  the 
house,  and  wade  along  in  it,  till  we  get  opposite  the  back 
door.  That  will  put  the  dogs  all  at  fault ;  for  scent  won't 
lie  in  the  water.  Every  one  will  run  out  of  the  house  to 
look  after  us,  and  then  we  '11  whip  in  at  the  back  door,  and 
up  into  the  garret,  where  I  've  got  a  nice  bed  made  up  in 
one  of  the  great  boxes.  We  must  stay  in  that  garret  a  good 
while  ;  for,  I  tell  you,  he  will  raise  heaven  and  earth  after 
us.  He  '11  muster  some  of  those  old  overseers  on  the  other 
plantations,  and  have  a  great  hunt ;  and  they  '11  go  over 
every  inch  of  ground  in  that  swamp.  He  makes  it  his  boast 
that  nobody  ever  got  away  from  him.  So  let  him  hunt  at 
his  leisure." 

"  Gassy,  how  well  you  have  planned  it !  "  said  Emme- 
line.  "  Who  ever  would  have  thought  of  it  but  you  ?  " 

There  was  neither  pleasure  nor  exultation  in  Cassy's  eyes, 
—  only  a  despairing  firmness. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  reaching  her  hand  to  Emmeline. 

The  two  fugitives  glided  noiselessly  from  the  house,  and 
flitted,  through  the  gathering  shadows  of  evening,  along  by 
the  quarters.  The  crescent  moon,  set  like  a  silver  signet 
in  the  western  sky,  delayed  a  little  the  approach  of  night. 
As  Gassy  expected,  when  quite  near  the  verge  of  the  swamps 
that  encircled  the  plantation,  they  heard  a  voice  calling  to 
them  to  stop.  It  was  not  Sambo,  however,  but  Legree,  who 
was  pursuing  them  with  violent  execrations.  At  the  sound, 
the  feebler  spirit  of  Emmeline  gave  way  ;  and,  laying  hold 
of  Cassy's  arm,  she  said,  "  Oh,  Gassy,  I  'm  going  to  faint !  " 

"  If  you  do,  I  '11  kill  you  ! "  said  Gassy,  drawing  a  small, 
glittering  stiletto,  and  flashing  it  before  the  eyes  of  the  girl. 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  195 

The  diversion  accomplished  the  purpose.  Emmeline  did 
not  faint,  and  succeeded  in  plunging,  with  Gassy,  into  a  part 
of  the  labyrinth  of  swamp,  so  deep  and  dark  that  it  was  per 
fectly  hopeless  for  Legree  to  think  of  following  them  with 
out  assistance. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  chuckling  brutally  ;  "  at  any  rate,  they  've 
got  themselves  into  a  trap  now  —  the  baggages  !  They  're 
safe  enough.  They  shall  sweat  for  it !  " 

"  Hulloa,  there  !  Sambo  !  Quimbo  !  All  hands  !  "  called 
Legree,  coming  to  the  quarters,  when  the  men  and  women 
were  just  returning  from  work.  "  There  's  two  runaways 
in  the  swamps.  I  '11  give  five  dollars  to  any  nigger  as  catches 
'em.  Turn  out  the  dogs  !  Turn  out  Tiger,  and  Fury,  and 
the  rest !  " 

The  sensation  produced  by  this  news  was  immediate. 
Many  of  the  men  sprang  forward,  officiously,  to  offer  their 
services,  either  from  the  hope  of  the  reward,  or  from  that 
cringing  subserviency  which  is  one  of  the  most  baleful  effects 
of  slavery.  Some  ran  one  way,  and  some  another.  Some 
were  for  getting  flambeaux  of  pine-knots.  Some  were  un 
coupling  the  dogs,  whose  hoarse,  savage  bay  added  not  a 
little  to  the  animation  of  the  scene. 

"  Mas'r,  shall  we  shoot  'em,  if  we  can't  cotch  'em  ?  " 
said  Sambo,  to  whom  his  master  brought  out  a  rifle. 

"  You  may  fire  on  Cass  if  you  like  ;  it 's  time  she  was 
gone  to  the  devil,  where  she  belongs ;  but  the  gal  not,"  said 
Legree.  "  And  now,  boys,  be  spry  and  smart.  Five  dol 
lars  for  him  that  gets  'em,  and  a  glass  of  spirits  to  every 
one  of  you  anyhow." 

The  whole  band,  with  the  glare  of  blazing  torches,  and 
whoop,  and  shout,  and  savage  yell,  of  man  and  beast,  pro 
ceeded  down  to  the  swamp,  followed  at  some  distance  by 
every  servant  in  the  house.  The  establishment  was,  of  a 
consequence,  wholly  deserted,  when  Cassy  and  Emmeline 
glided  into  it  the  back  way.  The  whooping  and  shouts  of 


196  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

their  pursuers  were  still  filling  the  air  ;  and,  looking  from 
the  sitting-room  windows,  Cassy  and  Emmeline  could  see 
the  troop,  with  their  flambeaux,  just  dispersing  themselves 
along  the  edge  of  the  swamp. 

"  See  there  !  "  said  Emmeline,  pointing  to  Cassy  ;  "  the 
hunt  is  begun  !  Look  how  those  lights  dance  about ! 
Hark !  the  dogs !  Don't  you  hear  ?  If  we  were  only 
there,  our  chance  would  n't  be  worth  a  picayune.  Oh,  for 
pity's  sake,  do  let 's  hide  ourselves.  Quick  !  " 

"  There 's  no  occasion  for  hurry,"  said  Cassy  coolly  ; 
"  they  are  all  out  after  the  hunt,  —  that 's  the  amusement 
of  the  evening !  We  '11  go  upstairs  by  and  by.  Mean 
while,"  said  she,  deliberately  taking  a  key  from  the  pocket 
of  a  coat  that  Legree  had  thrown  down  in  his  hurry,  — 
"  meanwhile  I  shall  take  something  to  pay  our  passage." 

She  unlocked  the  desk,  took  from  it  a  roll  of  bills,  which 
she  counted  over  rapidly. 

"  Oh,  don't  let 's  do  that !  "   said  Emmeline. 

"  Don't  !  "  said  Cassy  ;  "  why  not  ?  Would  you  have 
us  starve  in  the  swamps,  or  have  that  that  will  pay  our 
way  to  the  free  States  ?  Money  will  do  anything,  girl." 
And  as  she  spoke,  she  put  the  money  in  her  bosom. 

"  It  would  be  stealing,"  said  Emmeline,  in  a  distressed 
whisper. 

"  Stealing  !  "  said  Cassy,  with  a  scornful  laugh.  "  They 
who  steal  body  and  soul  need  n't  talk  to  us.  Every  one  of 
these  bills  is  stolen,  —  stolen  from  poor,  starving,  sweating 
creatures,  who  must  go  to  the  devil  at  last,  for  his  profit. 
Let  him  talk  about  stealing  !  But  come,  we  may  as  well 
go  up  garret ;  I  've  got  a  stock  of  candles  there,  and  some 
books  to  pass  away  the  time.  You  may  be  pretty  sure 
they  won't  come  there  to  inquire  after  us.  If  they  do,  I  '11 
play  ghost  for  them." 

When  Emmeline  reached  the  garret,  she  found  an  ^im 
mense  box,  in  which  some  heavy  pieces  of  furniture  had 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOAVLY  197 

once  been  brought,  turned  on  its  side,  so  that  the  opening 
faced  the  wall,  or  rather  the  eaves.  Cassy  lit  a  small  lamp, 
and,  creeping  round  under  the  eaves,  they  established  them 
selves  in  it.  It  was  spread  with  a  couple  of  small  mat 
tresses  and  some  pillows ;  a  box  near  by  was  plentifully 
stored  with  candles,  provisions,  and  all  the  clothing  neces 
sary  to  their  journey,  which  Cassy  had  arranged  into  bundles 
of  an  astonishingly  small  compass. 

"  There,"  said  Cassy,  as  she  fixed  the  lamp  into  a  small 
hook,  which  she  had  driven  into  the  side  of  the  box  for 
that  purpose;  "this  is  to  be  our  home  for  the  present. 
How  do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Are  you  sure  they  won't  come  and  search  the  garret  ?  " 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  Simon  Legree  doing  that,"  said  Cassy. 
"  No,  indeed  ;  he  will  be  too  glad  to  keep  away.  As  to 
the  servants,  they  would  any  of  them  stand  and  be  shot 
sooner  than  show  their  faces  here." 

Somewhat  reassured,  Emmeline  settled  herself  back  on 
her  pillow. 

"  What  did  you  mean,  Cassy,  by  saying  you  would  kill 
me  ?  "  she  said  simply. 

"  I  meant  to  stop  your  fainting,"  said  Cassy,  "  and  I  did 
do  it.  And  now  I  tell  you,  Emmeline,  you  must  make  up 
your  mind  not  to  faint,  let  what  will  come  ;  there  's  no  sort 
of  need  of  it.  If  1  had  not  stopped  you,  that  wretch  might 
have  had  his  hands  on  you  now." 

Emmeline  shuddered. 

The  two  remained  some  time  in  silence.  Cassy  busied 
herself  with  a  French  book  ;  Emmeline,  overcome  with  the 
exhaustion,  fell  into  a  doze,  and  slept  some  time.  She 
was  awakened  by  loud  shouts  and  outcries,  the  tramp  of 
horses'  feet,  and  the  baying  of  dogs.  She  started  up,  with 
a  faint  shriek. 

"  Only  the  hunt  coming  back,"  said  Cassy  coolly  ;  "  never 
fear.  Look  out  of  this  knot-hole.  Don't  you  see  'em  all 


198  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

down  there  ?  Simon  has  to  give  it  up,  for  this  night. 
Look,  how  muddy  his  horse  is,  flouncing  about  in  the 
swamp ;  the  dogs,  too,  look  rather  crestfallen.  Ah,  my 
good  sir,  you  '11  have  to  try  the  race  again  and  again  —  the 
game  is  n't  there." 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  a  word  !  "  said  Emmeline  ;  "  what  if 
they  should  hear  you  ?  " 

"  If  they  do  hear  anything,  it  will  make  them  very  par 
ticular  to  keep  away,"  said  Gassy.  "  No  danger  ;  we  may 
make  any  noise  we  please,  and  it  will  only  add  to  the 
effect." 

At  length  the  stillness  of  midnight  settled  down  over  the 
house.  Legree,  cursing  his  ill  luck,  and  vowing  dire  ven 
geance  on  the  morrow,  went  to  bed. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  199 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    MARTYR 

"  Deem  not  the  just  by  Heaven  forgot  ! 

Though  life  its  common  gifts  deny,  — 
Though,  with  a  crushed  and  bleeding  heart, 

And  spurned  of  man,  he  goes  to  die ! 
For  God  hath  marked  each  sorrowing  day, 

And  numbered  every  bitter  tear; 
And  heaven's  long  years  of  bliss  shall  pay 
For  all  his  children  suffer  here." 

BRYANT. 

THE  longest  way  must  have  its  close,  —  the  gloomiest 
night  will  wear  on  to  a  morning.  An  eternal,  inexorable 
lapse  of  moments  is  ever  hurrying  the  day  of  the  evil  to  an 
eternal  night,  and  the  night  of  the  just  to  an  eternal  day. 
We  have  walked  with  our  humble  friend  thus  far  in  the 
valley  of  slavery  ;  first  through  flowery  fields  of  ease  and 
indulgence,  then  through  heart-breaking  separations  from  all 
that  man  holds  dear.  Again,  we  have  waited  with  him  in  a 
sunny  island,  where  generous  hands  concealed  his  chains 
with  flowers  ;  and,  lastly,  we  have  followed  him  when  the 
last  ray  of  earthly  hope  went  out  in  night,  and  seen  how,  in 
the  blackness  of  earthly  darkness,  the  firmament  of  the  un 
seen  has  blazed  with  stars  of  new  and  significant  lustre. 

The  morning  star  now  stands  over  the  tops  of  the 
mountains,  and  gales  and  breezes,  not  of  earth,  show  that 
the  gates  of  day  are  unclosing. 

The  escape  of  Gassy  and  Emmeline  irritated  the  before 
surly  temper  of  Legree  to  the  last  degree  ;  and  his  fury,  as 
was  to  be  expected,  fell  upon  the  defenseless  head  of  Tom. 
When  he  hurriedly  announced  the  tidings  among  his  hands, 


200  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 

there  was  a  sudden  light  in  Tom's  eye,  a  sudden  upraising 
of  his  hands,  that  did  not  escape  him.  He  saw  that  he  did 
not  join  the  muster  of  the  pursuers.  He  thought  of  forcing 
him  to  do  it;  but  having  had,  of  old,  experience  of  his  in 
flexibility  when  commanded  to  take  part  in  any  deed  of 
inhumanity,  he  would  not,  in  his  hurry,  stop  to  enter  into 
any  conflict  with  him. 

Tom,  therefore,  remained  behind,  with  a  few  who  had 
learned  of  him  to  pray,  and  offered  up  prayers  for  the  escape 
of  the  fugitives. 

When  Legree  returned,  baffled  and  disappointed,  all  the 
long-working  hatred  of  his  soul  towards  his  slave  began  to 
gather  in  a  deadly  and  desperate  form.  Had  not  this  man 
braved  him,  —  steadily,  powerfully,  resistlessly,  —  ever  since 
he  bought  him?  Was  there  not  a  spirit  in  him  which, 
silent  as  it  was,  burned  on  him  like  the  fires  of  perdition  ? 

"  I  hate  him  !  "  said  Legree  that  night,  as  he  sat  up  in 
his  bed  ;  "  I  hate  him  !  And  is  n't  he  MINE  ?  Can't  1  do 
what  I  like  with  him  ?  Who  's  to  hinder,  I  wonder  ?  " 
And  Legree  clenched  his  fist,  and  shook  it,  as  if  he  had 
something  in  his  hands  that  he  could  rend  in  pieces. 

But,  then,  Tom  was  a  faithful,  valuable  servant ;  and 
although  Legree  hated  him  the  more  for  that,  yet  the  con 
sideration  was  still  somewhat  of  a  restraint  to  him. 

The  next  morning,  he  determined  to  say  nothing  as  yet ; 
to  assemble  a  party  from  some  neighboring  plantations, 
with  dogs  and  guns  ;  to  surround  the  swamp,  and  go  about 
the  hunt  systematically.  If  it  succeeded,  well  and  good  ; 
if  not,  he  would  summon  Tom  before  him,  and  —  his  teeth 
clenched  and  his  blood  boiled  —  then  he  would  break  that 
fellow  down,  or  —  there  was  a  dire  inward  whisper,  to 
which  his  soul  assented. 

Ye  say  that  the  interest  of  the  master  is  a  sufficient  safe 
guard  for  the  slave.  In  the  fury  of  man's  mad  will,  he 
will  wittingly,  and  with  open  eye,  sell  his  own  soul  to  the 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  201 

devil  to  gain  his  ends ;  and  will  he  be  more  careful  of  his 
neighbor's  body  ? 

"  Well,"  said  Gassy,  the  next  day,  from  the  garret,  as 
she  reconnoitred  through  the  knot-hole,  "  the  hunt 's  going 
to  begin  again  to-day  !  " 

Three  or  four  mounted  horsemen  were  curveting  about, 
on  the  space  in  front  of  the  house ;  and  one  or  two  leashes 
of  strange  dogs  were  struggling  with  the  negroes  who  held 
them,  baying  and  barking  at  each  other. 

The  men  are,  two  of  them,  overseers  of  plantations  in 
the  vicinity  ;  and  others  were  some  of  Legree's  associates 
at  the  tavern-bar  of  a  neighboring  city,  who  had  come  for 
the  interest  of  the  sport.  A  more  hard-favored  set,  per 
haps,  could  not  be  imagined.  Legree  was  serving  brandy, 
profusely,  round  among  them,  as  also  among  the  negroes, 
who  had  been  detailed  from  the  various  plantations  for  this 
service  ;  for  it  was  an  object  to  make  every  service  of 
this  kind,  among  the  negroes,  as  much  of  a  holiday  as 
possible. 

Cassy  placed  her  ear  at  the  knot-hole ;  and  as  the  morn 
ing  air  blew  directly  towards  the  house,  she  could  overhear 
a  good  deal  of  the  conversation.  A  grave  sneer  overcast 
the  dark,  severe  gravity  of  her  face  as  she  listened,  and 
heard  them  divide  out  the  ground,  discuss  the  rival  merits 
of  the  dogs,  give  orders  about  firing,  and  the  treatment  of 
each  in  case  of  capture. 

Cassy  drew  back ;  and,  clasping  her  hands,  looked  up 
ward,  and  said,  "  0  great  Almighty  God  !  we  are  all  sin 
ners  ;  but  what  have  we  done,  more  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
world,  that  we  should  be  treated  so  ?  " 

There  was  a  terrible  earnestness  in  her  face  and  voice  as 
she  spoke. 

"  If  it  was  n't  for  you,  child,"  she  said,  looking  at  Em- 
meline,  "  I  M  go  out  to  them  ;  and  I  'd  thank  any  one  of 
them  that  would  shoot  me  down ;  for  what  use  will  free- 


202  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

dom  be  to  me  ?  Can  it  give  me  back  my  children,  or  make 
me  what  I  used  to  be  ?  " 

Emmeline,  in  her  childlike  simplicity,  was  half  afraid  of 
the  dark  moods  of  Cassy.  She  looked  perplexed,  but  made 
no  answer.  She  only  took  her  hand,  with  a  gentle,  caress 
ing  movement. 

"  Don't !  "  said  Cassy,  trying  to  draw  it  away  ;  "  you  '11 
get  me  to  loving  you ;  and  I  never  mean  to  love  anything 
again  !  " 

"  Poor  Cassy  !  "  said  Emmeline,  "  don't  feel  so  !  If  the 
Lord  gives  us  liberty,  perhaps  he  '11  give  you  back  your 
daughter ;  at  any  rate,  I  '11  be  like  a  daughter  to  you.  I 
know  I  '11  never  see  my  poor  old  mother  again  !  I  shall 
love  you,  Cassy,  whether  you  love  me  or  not !  " 

The  gentle,  childlike  spirit  conquered.  Cassy  sat  down 
by  her,  put  her  arm  round  her  neck,  stroked  her  soft,  brown 
hair  ;  and  Emmeline  then  wondered  at  the  beauty  of  her 
magnificent  eyes,  now  soft  with  tears. 

"  Oh,  Em  !  "  said  Cassy.  "  I  've  hungered  for  my  chil 
dren,  and  thirsted  for  them,  and  my  eyes  fail  with  longing 
for  them  !  Here  !  here  ! "  she  said,  striking  her  breast,  "  it 's 
all  desolate,  all  empty  !  If  God  would  give  me  back  my 
children,  then  I  could  pray." 

"  You  must  trust  him,  Cassy,"  said  Emmeline  ;  "  he  is  our 
Father  !  " 

"  His  wrath  is  upon  us,"  said  Cassy ;  "  he  has  turned 
away  in  anger." 

"  No,  Cassy  !  He  will  be  good  to  us  !  Let  us  hope  in 
him,"  said  Emmeline ;  "  I  always  have  had  hope." 

The  hunt  was  long,  animated,  and  thorough,  but  unsuc 
cessful,  and  with  grave,  ironic  exultation,  Cassy  looked  down 
on  Legree,  as,  weary  and  dispirited,  he  alighted  from  his 
horse. 

"Now,  Quimbo,"  said  Legree,   as  he  stretched   himself 


LIFE    AMONG   THE    LOWLY  203 

down  in  the  sitting-room,  li  you  jest  go  and  walk  that  Tom 
up  here  right  away  !  The  old  cuss  is  at  the  bottom  of  this 
yer  whole  matter  ;  and  I  '11  have  it  out  of  his  old  black  hide, 
or  I  '11  know  the  reason  why." 

Sambo  and  Quimbo  both,  though  hating  each  other,  were 
joined  in  one  mind  by  a  no  less  cordial  hatred  of  Tom.  Le- 
gree  had  told  them  at  first  that  he  had  bought  him  for  a 
general  overseer  in  his  absence ;  and  this  had  begun  an  ill 
will,  on  their  part,  which  had  increased,  in  their  debased 
and  servile  natures,  as  they  saw  him  becoming  obnoxious  to 
their  master's  displeasure.  Quimbo,  therefore,  departed  with 
a  will,  to  execute  his  orders. 

Tom  heard  the  message  with  a  forewarning  heart ;  for  he 
knew  all  the  plan  of  the  fugitives'  escape,  and  the  place  of 
their  present  concealment ;  he  knew  the  deadly  character  of 
the  man  he  had  to  deal  with,  and  his  despotic  power.  But 
he  felt  strong  in  God  to  meet  death  rather  than  betray  the 
helpless. 

He  set  his  basket  down  by  the  row,  and,  looking  up,  said, 
"  Into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit  !  Thou  hast  re 
deemed  me,  0  Lord  God  of  truth  !  "  and  then  quietly  yielded 
himself  to  the  rough,  brutal  grasp  with  which  Quimbo  seized 
him. 

"Ay,  ay  !"  said  the  giant,  as  he  dragged  him  along; 
"  ye  '11  cotch  it  now  !  I  '11  boun'  Mas'r's  back  's  up  hiyh  ! 
No  sneaking  out  now  !  Tell  ye,  ye '11  get  it,  and  no  mis 
take  !  See  how  ye  '11  look,  now,  helpin'  Mas'r's  niggers  to 
run  away  !  See  what  ye  '11  get !  " 

The  savage  words  none  of  them  reached  that  ear !  —  a 
higher  voice  there  was  saying,  "  Fear  not  them  that  kill 
the  body,  and  after  that  have  no  more  that  they  can  do." 
Nerve  and  bone  of  that  poor  man's  body  vibrated  to  those 
words,  as  if  touched  by  the  finger  of  God  5  and  he  felt  the 
strength  of  a  thousand  souls  in  one.  As  he  passed  along, 
the  trees  and  bushes,  the  huts  of  his  servitude,  the  whole 


204  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

scene  of  his  degradation,  seemed  to  whirl  hy  him  as  the  land 
scape  by  the  rushing  car.  His  soul  throbbed,  —  his  home 
was  in  sight,  —  and  the  hour  of  release  seemed  at  hand. 

"  Well,  Tom  !  "  said  Legree,  walking  up,  and  seizing  him 
grimly  by  the  collar  of  his  coat,  and  speaking  through  his 
teeth,  in  a  paroxysm  of  determined  rage,  "  do  you  know  I  've 
made  up  my  mind  to  KILL  you  ?  " 

"  It 's  very  likely,  Mas'r,"  said  Tom  calmly. 

"  I  have"  said  Legree,  with  grim,  terrible  calmness, 
"done — just — that  —  thing,  Tom,  unless  you'll  tell  me 
what  you  know  about  these  yer  gals  !  " 

Tom  stood  silent. 

"  D'  ye  hear  ?  "  said  Legree,  stamping,  with  a  roar  like 
that  of  an  incensed  lion.  "  Speak  !  " 

"  /  hain't  got  nothing  to  tell,  Mas'r"  said  Tom,  with  a 
slow,  firm,  deliberate  utterance. 

"  Do  you  dare  to  tell  me,  ye  old  black  Christian,  ye  don't 
know  ?  "  said  Legree. 

Tom  was  silent. 

"  Speak !  "  thundered  Legree,  striking  him  furiously.  "  Do 
you  know  anything  ?  " 

"  I  know,  Mas'r ;  but  I  can't  tell  anything.  /  can 
die  !  " 

Legree  drew  in  a  long  breath  ;  and,  suppressing  his  rage, 
took  Tom  by  the  arm,  and,  approaching  his  face  almost  to 
his,  said  in  a  terrible  voice,  "  Hark  'e,  Tom  !  —  ye  think 
'cause  I  've  let  you  off  before  I  don't  mean  what  I  say  ;  but, 
this  time  I  've  made  up  my  mind,  and  counted  the  cost. 
You've  always  stood  it  out  agin  me:  now,  I'll  conquer 
ye  or  kill  ye  !  —  one  or  t'  other.  I  '11  count  every  drop  of 
blood  there  is  in  you,  and  take  'em,  one  by  one,  till  ye  give 
up  ! " 

Tom  looked  up  to  his  master,  and  answered,  "  Mas'r,  if 
you  was  sick,  or  in  trouble,  or  dying,  and  I  could  save  ye, 
I  'd  give  ye  my  heart's  blood ;  and,  if  taking  every  drop  of 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  205 

blood  in  this  poor  old  body  would  save  your  precious  soul, 
I  'd  give  'em  freely,  as  the  Lord  gave  his  for  me.  Oh, 
Mas'r  !  don't  bring  this  great  sin  on  your  soul !  It  will 
hurt  you  more  than  't  will  me  !  Do  the  worst  you  can,  my 
troubles  '11  be  over  soon ;  but  if  ye  don't  repent  yours 
won't  never  end  !  " 

Like  a  strange  snatch  of  heavenly  music,  heard  in  the 
lull  of  a  tempest,  this  burst  of  feeling  made  a  moment's 
blank  pause.  Legree  stood  aghast,  and  looked  at  Tom  ; 
and  there  was  such  a  silence  that  the  tick  of  the  old  clock 
could  be  heard,  measuring,  with  silent  touch,  the  last  mo 
ments  of  mercy  and  probation  to  that  hardened  heart. 

It  was  but  a  moment.  There  was  one  hesitating  pause, 
—  one  irresolute,  relenting  thrill,  —  and  the  spirit  of  evil 
came  back,  with  sevenfold  vehemence  ;  and  Legree,  foaming 
with  rage,  smote  his  victim  to  the  ground. 

Scenes  of  blood  and  cruelty  are  shocking  to  our  ear  and 
heart.  What  man  has  nerve  to  do,  man  has  not  nerve  to 
hear.  What  brother  man  and  brother  Christian  must  suffer 
cannot  be  told  us,  even  in  our  secret  chamber,  it  so  harrows 
up  the  soul  !  And  yet,  0  my  country  !  these  things  are 
done  under  the  shadow  of  thy  laws  !  0  Christ !  thy  church 
sees  them,  almost  in  silence  ! 

But,  of  old,  there  was  One  whose  suffering  changed  an 
instrument  of  torture,  degradation,  and  shame,  into  a  sym 
bol  of  glory,  honor,  and  immortal  life  ;  and,  where  his 
spirit  is,  neither  degrading  stripes,  nor  blood,  nor  insults 
can  make  the  Christian's  last  struggle  less  than  glorious. 

Was  he  alone  that  long  night,  whose  brave,  loving  spirit 
was  bearing  up,  in  that  old  shed,  against  buffeting  and 
brutal  stripes  ? 

Nay  !  There  stood  by  him  ONE,  —  seen  by  him  alone, 
—  "  like  unto  the  Son  of  God." 

The  tempter  stood   by  him,  too,  —  blinded   by  furious, 


206  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

despotic  will,  —  every  moment  pressing  him  to  shun  that 
agony  by  the  betrayal  of  the  innocent.  But  the  brave,  true 
heart  was  firm  on  the  Eternal  Rock.  Like  his  Master,  he 
knew  that,  if  he  saved  others,  himself  he  could  not  save  ; 
nor  could  utmost  extremity  wring  from  him  words  save  of 
prayer  and  holy  trust. 

"  He  's  'most  gone,  Mas'r,"  said  Sambo,  touched,  in  spite 
of  himself,  by  the  patience  of  his  victim. 

"  Pay  away,  till  he  gives  up  !  Give  it  to  him  !  —  give  it 
to  him  !  "  shouted  Legree.  "  I  '11  take  every  drop  of  blood 
he  has,  unless  he  confesses  !  " 

Tom  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked  upon  his  master.  "  Ye 
poor  miserable  crittur  !  "  he  said,  "  there  ain't  no  more  ye 
can  do  !  I  forgive  ye,  with  all  my  soul !  "  and  he  fainted 
entirely  away. 

"  I  b'lieve,  my  soul,  he  's  done  for  finally,"  said  Legree, 
stepping  forward  to  look  at  him.  "  Yes,  he  is  !  Well,  his 
mouth  's  shut  up  at  last,  —  that 's  one  comfort !  " 

Yes,  Legree  ;  but  who  shall  shut  up  that  voice  in  thy 
soul  ?  —  that  soul,  past  repentance,  past  prayer,  past  hope, 
in  whom  the  fire  that  never  shall  be  quenched  is  already 
burning ! 

Yet  Tom  was  not  quite  gone.  His  wondrous  words  and 
pious  prayers  had  struck  upon  the  hearts  of  the  imbruted 
blacks,  who  had  been  the  instruments  of  cruelty  upon  him  ; 
and,  the  instant  Legree  withdrew,  they  took  him  down, 
and,  in  their  ignorance,  sought  to  call  him  back  to  life,  — 
as  if  that  were  any  favor  to  him. 

"  Sartin,  we  's  been  doin'  a  drefful  wicked  thing  !  "  said 
Sambo  ;  "  hopes  Mas'r  '11  have  to  'count  for  it,  and  not  we." 

They  washed  his  wounds,  —  they  provided  a  rude  bed,  of 
some  refuse  cotton,  for  him  to  lie  down  on  ;  and  one  of  them, 
stealing  up  to  the  house,  begged  a  drink  of  brandy  of 
Legree,  pretending  that  he  was  tired,  and  wanted  it  for  him 
self.  He  brought  it  back,  and  poured  it  down  Tom's  throat. 


LIFE    AMONG   THE   LOWLY  207 

"  Oh,  Tom  !  "  said  Quimbo,  "  we  's  been  awful  wicked  to 
ye!" 

"  I  forgive  ye,  with  all  my  heart !  "  said  Tom  faintly. 

"  Oh,  Tom !  do  tell  us  who  is  Jesus,  anyhow  ?  "  said 
Sambo,  —  "  Jesus,  that 's  been  a-standin'  by  you  so  all  this 
night  ?  —  Who  is  he  ?  " 

The  word  roused  the  failing,  fainting  spirit.  He  poured 
forth  a  few  energetic  sentences  of  that  wondrous  One,  —  his 
life,  his  death,  his  everlasting  presence,  and  power  to  save. 

They  wept,  —  both  the  two  savage  men. 

"  Why  did  n't  I  never  hear  this  before  ?  "  said  Sambo  ; 
"  but  I  do  believe  !  —  I  can't  help  it !  Lord  Jesus,  have 
mercy  on  us  !  " 

"  Poor  critturs  !  "  said  Tom ;  "  I  'd  be  willin'  to  bar  all  I 
have,  if  it  '11  only  bring  ye  to  Christ !  0  Lord  !  give  me 
these  two  more  souls,  I  pray  !  " 

That  prayer  was  answered. 


208  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 


CHAPTER    XLI 

THE    YOUNG-  MASTER 

Two  days  after,  a  young  man  drove  a  light  wagon  up 
through  the  avenue  of  China-trees,  and,  throwing  the  reins 
hastily  on  the  horses'  neck,  sprang  out  and  inquired  for  the 
owner  of  the  place. 

It  was  George  Shelby  ;  and,  to  show  how  he  came  to  be 
there,  we  must  go  back  in  our  story. 

The  letter  of  Miss  Ophelia  to  Mrs.  Shelby  had,  by  some 
unfortunate  accident,  been  detained  for  a  month  or  two  at 
some  remote  post-office,  before  it  reached  its  destination  ; 
and,  of  course,  before  it  was  received,  Tom  was  already  lost 
to  view  among  the  distant  swamps  of  the  Red  Eiver. 

Mrs.  Shelby  read  the  intelligence  with  the  deepest  con 
cern  ;  but  any  immediate  action  upon  it  was  an  impossi 
bility.  She  was  then  in  attendance  on  the  sick-bed  of  her 
husband,  who  lay  delirious  in  the  crisis  of  a  fever.  Master 
George  Shelby,  who,  in  the  interval,  had  changed  from  a 
boy  to  a  tall  young  man,  was  her  constant  and  faithful  as 
sistant,  and  her  only  reliance  in  superintending  his  father's 
affairs.  Miss  Ophelia  had  taken  the  precaution  to  send 
them  the  name  of  the  lawyer  who  did  business  for  the  St. 
Clares ;  and  the  most  that,  in  the  emergency,  could  be  done 
was  to  address  a  letter  of  inquiry  to  him.  The  sudden 
death  of  Mr.  Shelby,  a  few  days  after,  brought  of  course 
an  absorbing  pressure  of  other  interests  for  a  season. 

Mr.  Shelby  showed  his  confidence  in  his  wife's  ability 
by  appointing  her  sole  executrix  upon  his  estates ;  and  thus 
immediately  a  large  and  complicated  amount  of  business 
was  brought  upon  her  hands. 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  209 

Mrs.  'Shelby,  with  characteristic  energy,  applied  herself 
to  the  work  of  straightening  the  entangled  web  of  affairs  • 
and  she  and  George  were  for  some  time  occupied  with  col 
lecting  and  examining  accounts,  selling  property,  and  set 
tling  debts  ;  for  Mrs.  Shelby  was  determined  that  everything 
should  be  brought  into  tangible  and  recognizable  shape,  let 
the  consequences  to  her  prove  what  they  might.  In  the 
mean  time,  they  received  a  letter  from  the  lawyer  to  whom 
Miss  Ophelia  had  referred  them,  saying  that  he  knew  no 
thing  of  the  matter ;  that  the  man  was  sold  at  a  public 
auction,  and  that,  beyond  receiving  the  money,  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  affair. 

Neither  George  nor  Mrs.  Shelby  could  be  easy  at  this 
result ;  and  accordingly  some  six  months  after,  the  latter, 
having  business  for  his  mother  down  the  river,  resolved  to 
visit  New  Orleans  in  person,  and  push  his  inquiries,  in 
hopes  of  discovering  Tom's  whereabouts  and  restoring  him. 

After  some  months  of  unsuccessful  search,  by  the  merest 
accident,  George  fell  in  with  a  man  in  New  Orleans,  who 
happened  to  be  possessed  of  the  desired  information ;  and 
with  his  money  in  his  pocket,  our  hero  took  steamboat  for 
Ked  River,  resolving  to  find  out  and  repurchase  his  old 
friend. 

He  was  soon  introduced  into  the  house,  where  he  found 
Legree  in  the  sitting-room. 

Legree  received  the  stranger  with  a  kind  of  surly  hospi 
tality. 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  young  man,  "  that  you  bought, 
in  New  Orleans,  a  boy  named  Tom.  He  used  to  be  on  my 
father's  place,  and  I  came  to  see  if  I  could  n't  buy  him 
back." 

Legree's  brow  grew  dark,  and  he  broke  out  passionately  : 
"  Yes,  I  did  buy  such  a  fellow,  —  and  a  h — 1  of  a  bargain 
I  had  of  it,  too  !  The  most  rebellious,  saucy,  impudent  dog ! 
Set  up  my  niggers  to  run  away  j  got  off  two  gals,  worth 

VOL.  ii. 


210  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  dollars  apiece.  He  owned  to 
that,  and  when  I  bid  him  tell  me  where  they  was,  he  up 
and  said  he  knew,  but  he  would  n't  tell  ;  and  stood  to  it, 
though  I  gave  him  the  cussedest  flogging  I  ever  gave  nigger 
yet.  I  b'lieve  he  's  trying  to  die  ;  but  I  don't  know  as  he  '11 
make  it  out." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  said  George  impetuously.  "  Let  me 
see  him.'7  The  cheeks  of  the  young  man  were  crimson, 
and  his  eyes  flashed  fire ;  but  he  prudently  said  nothing  as 
yet. 

"  He  's  in  dat  ar  shed,"  said  a  little  fellow,  who  stood 
holding  George's  horse. 

Legree  kicked  the  boy,  and  swore  at  him  ;  but  George, 
without  saying  another  word,  turned  and  strode  to  the  spot. 

Tom  had  been  lying  two  days  since  the  fatal  night ;  not 
suffering,  for  every  nerve  of  suffering  was  blunted  and  de 
stroyed.  He  lay  for  the  most  part  in  a  quiet  stupor  ;  for 
the  laws  of  a  powerful  and  well-knit  frame  would  not  at 
once  release  the  imprisoned  spirit.  By  stealth,  there  had  been 
there,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  poor  desolated  creatures, 
who  stole  from  their  scanty  hours'  rest,  that  they  might  re 
pay  to  him  some  of  those  ministrations  of  love  in  which  he 
had  always  been  so  abundant.  Truly,  those  poor  disciples 
had  little  to  give,  —  only  the  cup  of  cold  water ;  but  it  was 
given  with  full  hearts. 

Tears  had  fallen  on  that  honest,  insensible  face,  —  tears 
of  late  repentance  in  the  poor,  ignorant  heathen,  whom  his 
dying  love  and  patience  had  awakened  to  repentance,  and 
bitter  prayers,  breathed  over  him  to  a  late-found  Saviour, 
of  whom  they  scarce  knew  more  than  the  name,  but  whom 
the  yearning  ignorant  heart  of  man  never  implores  in  vain. 

Cassy,  who  had  glided  out  of  her  place  of  concealment,  and, 
by  overhearing,  learned  the  sacrifice  that  had  been  made  for 
her  and  Emmeline,  had  been  there  the  night  before,  defying 
the  danger  of  detection  ;  and  moved  by  the  few  last  words 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  211 

which  the  affectionate  soul  had  yet  strength  to  breathe,  the 
long  winter  of  despair,  the  ice  of  years,  had  given  way,  and 
the  dark,  despairing  woman  had  wept  and  prayed. 

When  George  entered  the  shed,  he  felt  his  head  giddy 
and  his  heart  sick. 

"  Is  it  possible,  —  is  it  possible  ?  "  said  he,  kneeling 
down  by  him.  "  Uncle  Tom,  my  poor,  poor  old  friend  !  " 

Something  in  the  voice  penetrated  to  the  ear  of  the  dying. 
He  moved  his  head  gently,  smiled,  and  said,  — 

"  Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 
Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are." 

Tears  which  did  honor  to  his  manly  heart  fell  from  the 
young  man's  eyes,  as  he  bent  over  his  poor  friend. 

"  Oh,  dear  Uncle  Tom  !  do  wake,  —  do  speak  once  more  ! 
Look  up  !  Here  's  Mas'r  George,  —  your  own  little  Mas'r 
George.  Don't  you  know  me  ?  JJ 

"  Mas'r  George  !  "  said  Tom,  opening  his  eyes,  and 
speaking  in  a  feeble  voice.  "  Mas'r  George  !  "  He  looked 
bewildered. 

Slowly  the  idea  seemed  to  fill  his  soul ;  and  the  vacant 
eye  became  fixed  and  brightened,  the  whole  face  lighted  up, 
the  hard  hands  clasped,  and  tears  ran  down  the  cheeks. 

"  Bless  the  Lord  !  it  is,  —  it  is,  —  it 's  all  I  wanted  ! 
They  have  n't  forgot  me.  It  warms  my  soul ;  it  does  my 
old  heart  good  !  Now  I  shall  die  content !  Bless  the  Lord, 

0  my  soul!  " 

"  You    sha'n't   die  !   you  must  n't  die,  nor  think  of  it. 

1  've  come  to  buy  you,  and  take  you  home,"  said  George, 
with  impetuous  vehemence. 

"  Oh,  Mas'r  George,  ye  're  too  late.  The  Lord  's  bought 
me,  and  is  going  to  take  me  home,  —  and  I  long  to  go. 
Heaven  is  better  than  Kintuck." 

"  Oh,  don't  die  !  It  '11  kill  me  !  —  it  '11  break  my  heart 
to  think  what  you  've  suffered,  —  and  lying  in  this  old 
shed  here  !  Poor,  poor  fellow  !  " 


212  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"  Don't  call  me  poor  fellow  !  "  said  Tom  solemnly. 
"  I  have  been  poor  fellow ;  but  that 's  all  past  and  gone 
now.  I  'm  right  in  the  door,  going  into  glory  !  Oh,  Mas'r 
George  !  heaven  has  come !  I  've  got  the  victory  !  — 
the  Lord  Jesus  has  given  it  to  me  !  Glory  be  to  his  name  !  " 
George  was  awe-struck  at  the  force,  the  vehemence,  the 
power,  with  which  these  broken  sentences  were  uttered. 
He  sat  gazing  in  silence. 

Tom  grasped  his  hand,  and  continued  :  "  Ye  must  n't, 
now,  tell  Chloe,  poor  soul !  how  ye  found  me  ;  —  ?t  would 
be  so  drefful  to  her.  Only  tell  her  ye  found  me  going  into 
glory  ;  and  that  I  could  n't  stay  for  no  one.  And  tell  her 
the  Lord  's  stood  by  me  everywhere  and  al'ays,  and  made 
everything  light  and  easy.  And  oh,  the  poor  chil'en  and 
the  baby  !  —  my  old  heart 's  been  most  broke  for  'em  time 
and  agin  !  Tell  'em  all  to  follow  me  —  follow  me  !  Give 
my  love  to  Mas'r,  and  dear  good  Missis,  and  everybody  in 
the  place  !  Ye  don't  know  !  'Pears  like  I  loves  'em  all ! 
I  loves  every  creatur  every whar  !  —  it 's  nothing  but  love  ! 
Oh,  Mas'r  George,  what  a  thing  't  is  to  be  a  Christian  !  " 

At  this  moment,  Legree  sauntered  up  to  the  door  of  the 
shed,  looked  in,  with  a  dogged  air  of  affected  carelessness, 
and  turned  away. 

"  The  old  Satan  !  "  said  George,  in  his  indignation.  "  It 's 
a  comfort  to  think  the  devil  will  pay  him  for  this  some  of 
these  days  !  " 

"  Oh,  don't !  —  Oh,  ye  must  n't !  "  said  Tom,  grasping 
his  hand  ;  "  he  's  a  poor  mis' able  crittur  !  it 's  awful  to 
think  on  't !  Oh,  if  he  only  could  repent,  the  Lord  would 
forgive  him  now  ;  but  I  'm  'feard  he  never  will !  " 

"I  hope  he  won't!"  said  George;  "I  never  want  to 
see  him  in  heaven !  " 

"Hush,  Mas'r  George! — it  worries  me!  Don't  feel 
so  !  He  ain't  done  me  no  real  harm,  —  only  opened  the 
gate  of  the  kingdom  for  me ;  that 's  all !  " 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  213 

At  this  moment,  the  sudden  flush  of  strength  which  the 
joy  of  meeting  his  young  master  had  infused  into  the  dying 
man  gave  way.  A  sudden  sinking  fell  upon  him  ;  he  closed 
his  eyes  ;  and  that  mysterious  and  sublime  change  passed 
over  his  face,  that  told  the  approach  of  other  worlds. 

He  began  to  draw  his  breath  with  long,  deep  inspirations, 
and  his  broad  chest  rose  and  fell  heavily.  The  expression 
of  his  face  was  that  of  a  conqueror. 

"  Who  —  who  —  who  shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of 
Christ  ?  "  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  contended  with  mortal 
weakness  ;  and,  with  a  smile,  he  fell  asleep. 

George  sat  fixed  with  solemn  awe.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  the  place  was  holy  ;  and,  as  he  closed  the  lifeless  eyes 
and  rose  up  from  the  dead,  only  one  thought  possessed  him, 
—  that  expressed  by  his  simple  old  friend :  "  What  a  thing 
it  is  to  be  a  Christian  !  " 

He  turned  ;   Legree  was  standing  sullenly  behind  him. 

Something  in  that  dying  scene  had  checked  the  natural 
fierceness  of  youthful  passion.  The  presence  of  the  man 
was  simply  loathsome  to  George  ;  and  he  felt  only  an  im 
pulse  to  get  away  from  him,  with  as  few  words  as  possible. 

Fixing  his  keen,  dark  eyes  on  Legree,  he  simply  said, 
pointing  to  the  dead,  "  You  have  got  all  you  ever  can  of 
him.  What  shall  I  pay  you  for  the  body  ?  I  will  take  it 
away,  and  bury  it  decently." 

"  I  don't  sell  dead  niggers,"  said  Legree  doggedly. 
"  You  are  welcome  to  bury  him  where  and  when  you  like." 

"  Boys,"  said  George,  in  an  authoritative  tone,  to  two 
or  three  negroes,  who  were  looking  at  the  body,  "  help  me 
lift  him  up,  and  carry  him  to  my  wagon  ;  and  get  me  a 
spade." 

One  of  them  ran  for  a  spade  ;  the  other  two  assisted 
George  to  carry  the  body  to  the  wagon. 

George  neither  spoke  to  nor  looked  at  Legree,  who  did 
not  countermand  his  orders,  but  stood,  whistling  with  an 


214  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

air  of  forced  unconcern.  He  sulkily  followed  them  to 
where  the  wagon  stood  at  the  door. 

George  spread  his  cloak  in  the  wagon,  and  had  the  body 
carefully  disposed  of  in  it,  —  moving  the  seat,  so  as  to  give 
it  room.  Then  he  turned,  fixed  his  eyes  on  Legree,  and 
said,  with  forced  composure,  — 

"  I  have  not  as  yet  said  to  you  what  I  think  of  this 
most  atrocious  affair ;  —  this  is  not  the  time  and  place. 
But,  sir,  this  innocent  blood  shall  have  justice.  I  will  pro 
claim  this  murder.  I  will  go  to  the  very  first  magistrate 
and  expose  you." 

"  Do  !  "  said  Legree,  snapping  his  fingers  scornfully. 
"  I  ?d  like  to  see  you  doing  it.  Where  you  going  to  get 
witnesses  ?  —  how  you  going  to  prove  it  ?  —  Come,  now  !  " 

George  saw,  at  once,  the  force  of  this  defiance.  There 
was  not  a  white  person  on  the  place ;  and,  in  all  Southern 
courts,  the  testimony  of  colored  blood  is  nothing.  He  felt 
at  that  moment  as  if  he  could  have  rent  the  heavens  with 
his  heart's  indignant  cry  for  justice  ;  but  in  vain. 

"  After  all,  what  a  fuss,  for  a  dead  nigger  !  "  said  Legree. 

The  word  was  as  a  spark  to  a  powder-magazine.  Pru 
dence  was  never  a  cardinal  virtue  of  the  Kentucky  boy. 
George  turned,  and,  with  one  indignant  blow,  knocked 
Legree  flat  upon  his  face  ;  and,  as  he  stood  over  him,  blaz 
ing  with  wrath  and  defiance,  he  would  have  formed  no  bad 
personification  of  his  great  namesake  triumphing  over  the 
dragon. 

Some  men,  however,  are  decidedly  bettered  by  being 
knocked  down.  If  a  man  lays  them  fairly  flat  in  the  dust, 
they  seem  immediately  to  conceive  a  respect  for  him ;  and 
Legree  was  one  of  this  sort.  As  he  rose,  therefore,  and 
brushed  the  dust  from  his  clothes,  he  eyed  the  slowly 
retreating  wagon  with  some  evident  consideration  ;  nor  did 
he  open  his  mouth  till  it  was  out  of  sight. 

Beyond  the   boundaries   of  the   plantation,   George  had 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  215 

noticed  a  dry,  sandy  knoll,  shaded  by  a  few  trees ;  there 
they  made  the  grave. 

"  Shall  we  take  off  the  cloak,  Mas'r  ?  "  said  the  negroes, 
when  the  grave  was  ready. 

"  No,  no,  —  bury  it  with  him  !  It 's  all  I  can  give  you 
now,  poor  Tom,  and  you  shall  have  it.'7 

They  laid  him  in  ;  and  the  men  shoveled  away  silently. 
They  banked  it  up,  and  laid  green  turf  over  it. 

"  You  may  go,  boys,'7  said  George,  slipping  a  quarter  into 
the  hand  of  each.  They  lingered  about,  however. 

"  If  young  Mas'r  would  please  buy  us  "  —  said  one. 

"  We  'd  serve  him  so  faithful !  "  said  the  other. 

"  Hard  times  here,  Mas'r !  "  said  the  first.  "  Do,  Mas'r, 
buy  us,  please  !  " 

"  I  can't,  —  I  can't !  "  said  George,  with  difficulty,  mo 
tioning  them  off ;  "  it 's  impossible  !  " 

The  poor  fellows  looked  dejected,  and  walked  off  in 
silence. 

"  Witness,  eternal  God !  "  said  George,  kneeling  on  the 
grave  of  his  poor  friend,  —  "  oh,  witness,  that,  from  this 
hour,  I  will  do  what  one  man  can  to  drive  out  this  curse  of 
slavery  from  my  land  !  " 

There  is  no  monument  to  mark  the  last  resting-place  of 
our  friend.  He  needs  none  !  His  Lord  knows  where  he 
lies,  and  will  raise  him  up,  immortal,  to  appear  with  him 
when  he  shall  appear  in  his  glory. 

Pity  him  not !  Such  a  life  and  death  is  not  for  pity  ! 
Not  in  the  riches  of  omnipotence  is  the  chief  glory  of  God  ; 
but  in  self-denying,  suffering  love !  And  blessed  are  the 
men  whom  he  calls  to  fellowship  with  him,  bearing  their 
cross  after  him  with  patience.  Of  such  it  is  written, 
"  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn,  for  they  shall  be  com 
forted." 


216  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 


CHAPTER  XLII 

AN    AUTHENTIC    GHOST    STORY 

For  some  remarkable  reason,  ghostly  legends  were  uncom 
monly  rife  about  this  time  among  the  servants  on  Legree's 
place. 

It  was  whisperingly  asserted  that  footsteps  in  the  dead 
of  night  had  been  heard  descending  the  garret  stairs,  and 
patroling  the  house.  In  vain  the  doors  of  the  upper  entry 
had  been  locked ;  the  ghost  either  carried  a  duplicate  key 
in  its  pocket,  or  availed  itself  of  a  ghost's  immemorial  privi 
lege  of  coming  through  the  keyhole,  and  promenaded  as 
before,  with  a  freedom  that  was  alarming. 

Authorities  were  somewhat  divided  as  to  the  outward 
form  of  the  spirit,  owing  to  a  custom  quite  prevalent  among 
negroes,  —  and,  for  ought  we  know,  among  whites,  too,  — 
of  invariably  shutting  the  eyes,  and  covering  up  heads  under 
blankets,  petticoats,  or  whatever  else  might  come  in  use  for 
a  shelter,  on  these  occasions.  Of  course,  as  everybody 
knows,  when  the  bodily  eyes  are  thus  out  of  the  lists,  the 
spiritual  eyes  are  uncommonly  vivacious  and  perspicuous ; 
and,  therefore,  there  were  abundance  of  full-length  portraits 
of  the  ghost,  abundantly  sworn  and  testified  to,  which,  as  is 
often  the  case  with  portraits,  agreed  with  each  other  in  no 
particular,  except  the  common  family  peculiarity  of  the 
ghost  tribe,  —  the  wearing  of  a  white  sheet.  The  poor  souls 
were  not  versed  in  ancient  history,  and  did  not  know  that 
Shakespeare  had  authenticated  this  costume,  by  telling  how 

"  the  sheeted  dead 
Did  squeak  and  gibber  in  the  Roman  streets." 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  217 

And,  therefore,  their  all  hitting  upon  this  is  a  striking  fact 
in  pneumatology,  which  we  recommend  to  the  attention  of 
spiritual  media  generally. 

Be  it  as  it  may,  we  have  private  reasons  for  knowing  that 
a  tall  figure  in  a  white  sheet  did  walk,  at  the  most  approved 
ghostly  hours,  around  the  Legree  premises,  —  pass  out  the 
doors,  glide  about  the  house,  —  disappear  at  intervals,  and, 
reappearing,  pass  up  the  silent  stairway,  into  that  fatal  gar 
ret  j  and  that,  in  the  morning,  the  entry  doors  were  all  found 
shut  and  locked  as  firm  as  ever. 

Legree  could  not  help  overhearing  this  whispering  ;  and 
it  was  all  the  more  exciting  to  him,  from  the  pains  that  were 
taken  to  conceal  it  from  him.  He  drank  more  brandy  than 
usual  ;  held  up  his  head  briskly,  and  swore  louder  than  ever 
in  the  daytime ;  but  he  had  bad  dreams,  and  the  visions  of 
his  head  on  his  bed  were  anything  but  agreeable.  The 
night  after  Tom's  body  had  been  carried  away,  he  rode  to 
the  next  town  for  a  carouse,  and  had  a  high  one.  Got  home 
late  and  tired ;  locked  his  door,  took  out  the  key,  and  went 
to  bed. 

After  all,  let  a  man  take  what  pains  he  may  to  hush  it 
down,  a  human  soul  is  an  awful  ghostly,  unquiet  possession 
for  a  bad  man  to  have.  Who  knows  the  metes  and  bounds 
of  it  ?  Who  knows  all  its  awful  perhapses,  —  those  shud- 
derings  and  tremblings,  which  it  can  no  more  live  down  than 
it  can  outlive  its  own  eternity  !  What  a  fool  is  he  who  locks 
his  door  to  keep  out  spirits,  who  has  in  his  own  bosom  a 
spirit  he  dares  not  meet  alone,  —  whose  voice,  smothered 
far  down,  and  piled  over  with  mountains  of  earthliness,  is 
yet  like  the  forewarning  trumpet  of  doom  ! 

But  Legree  locked  his  door  and  set  a  chair  against  it ; 
he  set  a  night-lamp  at  the  head  of  his  bed  ;  and  he  put  his 
pistols  there.  He  examined  the  catches  and  fastenings  of 
the  windows,  and  then  swore  he  "  did  n't  care  for  the  devil 
and  all  his  angels,"  and  went  to  sleep. 


218  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

Well,  he  slept,  for  he  was  tired,  —  slept  soundly.  But 
finally,  there  came  over  his  sleep  a  shadow,  a  horror,  an 
apprehension  of  something  dreadful  hanging  over  him.  It 
was  his  mother's  shroud,  he  thought ;  but  Cassy  had  it, 
holding  it  up,  and  showing  it  to  him.  He  heard  a  confused 
noise  of  screams  and  groanings  ;  and,  with  it  all,  he  knew 
he  was  asleep,  and  he  struggled  to  wake  himself.  He  was 
half  awake.  He  was  sure  something  was  coming  into  his 
room.  He  knew  the  door  was  opening,  but  he  could  not 
stir  hand  or  foot.  At  last  he  turned,  with  a  start ;  the  door 
was  open,  and  he  saw  a  hand  putting  out  his  light. 

It  was  a  cloudy,  misty  moonlight,  and  there  he  saw  it ! 
—  something  white,  gliding  in !  He  heard  the  still  rustle 
of  its  ghostly  garments.  It  stood  still  by  his  bed  ;  —  a 
cold  hand  touched  his ;  a  voice  said,  three  times,  in  a  low, 
fearful  whisper,  "  Come  !  come  !  come  !  "  And  while  he 
lay  sweating  with  terror,  he  knew  not  when  or  how,  the 
thing  was  gone.  He  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  pulled  at  the 
door.  It  was  shut  and  locked,  and  the  man  fell  down  in  a 
swoon. 

After  this,  Legree  became  a  harder  drinker  than  ever 
before.  He  no  longer  drank  cautiously,  prudently,  but  im 
prudently  and  recklessly. 

There  were  reports  around  the  country  soon  after  that 
he  was  sick  and  dying.  Excess  had  brought  on  that  fright 
ful  disease  that  seems  to  throw  the  lurid  shadows  of  a  coming 
retribution  back  into  the  present  life.  None  could  bear  the 
horrors  of  that  sick-room,  when  he  raved  and  screamed,  and 
spoke  of  sights  which  almost  stopped  the  blood  of  those  who 
heard  him  ;  and,  at  his  dying-bed,  stood  a  stern,  white,  in 
exorable  figure,  saying,  "  Come  !  come  !  come !  " 

By  a  singular  coincidence,  on  the  very  night  that  this 
vision  appeared  to  Legree,  the  house-door  was  found  open 
in  the  morning,  and  some  of  the  negroes  had  seen  two  white 
figures  gliding  down  the  avenue  towards  the  highroad. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  219 

It  was  near  sunrise  when  Gassy  and  Emmeline  paused, 
for  a  moment,  in  a  little  knot  of  trees  near  the  town. 

Gassy  was  dressed  after  the  manner  of  the  Creole  Span 
ish  ladies,  —  wholly  in  black.  A  small  black  bonnet  on  her 
head,  covered  by  a  veil  thick  with  embroidery,  concealed 
her  face.  It  had  been  agreed  that,  in  their  escape,  she  was 
to  personate  the  character  of  a  Creole  lady,  and  Emmeline 
that  of  her  servant. 

Brought  up  from  early  life  in  connection  with  the  high 
est  society,  the  language,  movements,  and  air  of  Gassy  were 
all  in  agreement  with  this  idea ;  and  she  had  still  enough 
remaining  with  her,  of  a  once  splendid  wardrobe  and  sets 
of  jewels,  to  enable  her  to  personate  the  thing  to  advantage. 

She  stopped  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  where  she  had 
noticed  trunks  for  sale,  and  purchased  a  handsome  one. 
This  she  requested  the  man  to  send  along  with  her.  And, 
accordingly,  thus  escorted  by  a  boy  wheeling  her  trunk,  and 
Emmeline  behind  her,  carrying  her  carpet-bag  and  sundry 
bundles,  she  made  her  appearance  at  the  small  tavern,  like 
a  lady  of  consideration. 

The  first  person  that  struck  her,  after  her  arrival,  was 
George  Shelby,  who  was  staying  there,  awaiting  the  next 
boat. 

Gassy  had  remarked  the  young  man  from  her  loop-hole  in 
the  garret,  and  seen  him  bear  away  the  body  of  Tom,  and 
observed  with  secret  exultation  his  rencontre  with  Legree. 
Subsequently,  she  had  gathered  from  the  conversations  she 
had  overheard  among  the  negroes,  as  she  glided  about  in 
her  ghostly  disguise  after  nightfall,  who  he  was,  and  in 
what  relation  he  stood  to  Tom.  She,  therefore,  felt  an 
immediate  accession  of  confidence,  when  she  found  that  he 
was,  like  herself,  awaiting  the  next  boat. 

Cassy's  air  and  manner,  address,  and  evident  command  of 
money  prevented  any  rising  disposition  to  suspicion  in  the 
hotel.  People  never  inquire  too  closely  into  those  who  are 


220  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

fair  on  the  main  point,  of  paying  well,  —  a  thing  which 
Cassy  had  foreseen  when  she  provided  herself  with  money. 

In  the  edge  of  the  evening,  a  boat  was  heard  coining 
along,  and  George  Shelby  handed  Cassy  aboard,  with  the 
politeness  which  comes  natural  to  every  Kentuckian,  and 
exerted  himself  to  provide  her  with  a  good  stateroom. 

Cassy  kept  her  room  and  bed,  on  pretext  of  illness, 
during  the  whole  time  they  were  on  Red  River ;  and  was 
waited  on,  with  obsequious  devotion,  by  her  attendant. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Mississippi  River,  George, 
having  learned  that  the  course  of  the  strange  lady  was  up 
ward,  like  his  own,  proposed  to  take  a  stateroom  for  her 
on  the  same  boat  with  himself,  —  good-naturedly  compas 
sionating  her  feeble  health,  and  desirous  to  do  what  he 
could  to  assist  her. 

Behold,  therefore,  the  whole  party  safely  transferred  to 
the  good  steamer  Cincinnati,  and  sweeping  up  the  river 
under  a  powerful  head  of  steam. 

Cassy's  health  was  much  better.  She  sat  upon  the 
guards,  came  to  the  table,  and  was  remarked  upon  in  the 
boat  as  a  lady  that  must  have  been  very  handsome. 

From  the  moment  that  George  got  the  first  glimpse  of 
her  face,  he  was  troubled  with  one  of  those  fleeting  and 
indefinite  likenesses,  which  almost  everybody  can  remember, 
and  has  been  at  times  perplexed  with.  He  could  not 
keep  himself  from  looking  at  her,  and  watching  her  per 
petually.  At  table,  or  sitting  at  her  stateroom  door,  still 
she  would  encounter  the  young  man's  eyes  fixed  on  her, 
and  politely  withdrawn  when  she  showed,  by  her  counte 
nance,  that  she  was  sensible  of  the  observation. 

Cassy  became  uneasy.  She  began  to  think  that  he 
suspected  something;  and  finally  resolved  to  throw  herself 
entirely  on  his  generosity,  and  intrusted  him  with  her 
whole  history. 

George  was  heartily  disposed  to  sympathize  with  any  one 


LIFE   AMONG   THE    LOWLY  221 

who  had  escaped  from  Legree's  plantation,  —  a  place  that 
he  could  not  remember  or  speak  of  with  patience,  —  and, 
with  the  courageous  disregard  of  consequences  which  is 
characteristic  of  his  age  and  state,  he  assured  her  that  he 
would  do  all  in  his  power  to  protect  and  bring  them  through. 

The  next  stateroom  to  Cassy's  was  occupied  by  a  French 
lady,  named  De  Thoux,  who  was  accompanied  by  a  fine 
little  daughter,  a  child  of  some  twelve  summers. 

This  lady,  having  gathered  from  George's  conversation 
that  he  was  from  Kentucky,  seemed  evidently  disposed  to 
cultivate  his  acquaintance ;  in  which  design  she  was  sec 
onded  by  the  graces  of  her  little  girl,  who  was  about  as 
pretty  a  plaything  as  ever  diverted  the  weariness  of  a  fort 
night's  trip  on  a  steamboat. 

George's  chair  was  often  placed  at  her  stateroom  door ; 
and  Cassy,  as  she  sat  upon  the  guards,  could  hear  their 
conversation. 

Madame  de  Thoux  was  very  minute  in  her  inquiries  as 
to  Kentucky,  where  she  said  she  had  resided  in  a  former 
period  of  her  life.  George  discovered,  to  his  surprise,  that 
her  former  residence  must  have  been  in  his  own  vicinity  ; 
and  her  inquiries  showed  a  knowledge  of  people  and  things 
in  his  region  that  was  perfectly  surprising  to  him. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Madame  de  Thoux  to  him  one  day, 
"  of  any  man  in  your  neighborhood  of  the  name  of  Harris  ?  " 

"  There  is  an  old  fellow  of  that  name  lives  not  far  from 
my  father's  place,"  said  George.  "  We  never  have  had 
much  intercourse  with  him,  though." 

"  He  is  a  large  slave-owner,  I  believe,''  said  Madame  de 
Thoux,  with  a  manner  which  seemed  to  betray  more  inter 
est  than  she  was  exactly  willing  to  show. 

"  He  is,"  said  George,  looking  rather  surprised  at  her 
manner. 

"  Did  you  ever  know  of  his  having  —  perhaps,  you  may 
have  heard  of  his  having  a  mulatto  boy,  named  George  ?  " 


222  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 

"  Oh,  certainly,  —  George  Harris,  —  I  know  him  well ; 
he  married  a  servant  of  my  mother's,  but  has  escaped  now 
to  Canada." 

"  He  has  ?  "  said  Madame  de  Thoux  quickly.  "  Thank 
God !  " 

George  looked  a  surprised  inquiry,  but  said  nothing. 

Madame  de  Thoux  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"  He  is  my  brother,"  she  said. 

"  Madame  ! "  said  George,  with  a  strong  accent  of  sur 
prise. 

"  Yes,"  said  Madame  de  Thoux,  lifting  her  head  proudly, 
and  wiping  her  tears ;  "  Mr.  Shelby,  George  Harris  is  my 
brother !  " 

"  I  am  perfectly  astonished,"  said  George,  pushing  back 
his  chair  a  pace  or  two,  and  looking  at  Madame  de  Thoux. 

"  I  was  sold  to  the  south  when  he  was  a  boy,"  said  she. 
"  I  was  bought  by  a  good  and  generous  man.  He  took  me 
with  him  to  the  West  Indies,  set  me  free,  and  married  me. 
It  is  but  lately  that  he  died  ;  and  I  was  coming  up  to  Ken 
tucky,  to  see  if  I  could  find  and  redeem  my  brother." 

"  I  have  heard  him  speak  of  a  sister  Emily,  that  was  sold 
south,'*  said  George. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  I  am  the  one,"  said  Madame  de  Thoux ; 
—  "  tell  me  what  sort  of  a  "  — 

"  A  very  fine  young  man,"  said  George,  "  notwithstanding 
the  curse  of  slavery  that  lay  on  him.  He  sustained  a  first- 
rate  character,  both  for  intelligence  and  principle.  I  know, 
you  see,"  he  said,  "  because  he  married  in  our  family." 

"  What  sort  of  a  girl  ?  "  said  Madame  de  Thoux  eagerly. 

"  A  treasure,"  said  George  ;  "  a  beautiful,  intelligent, 
amiable  girl,  —  very  pious.  My  mother  had  brought  her 
up,  and  trained  her  as  carefully  almost  as  a  daughter.  She 
could  read  and  write,  embroider  and  sew  beautifully ;  and 
was  a  beautiful  singer." 


LIFE    AMONG   THE   LOWLY  223 

"  Was  she  born  in  your  house  ?  "  said  Madame  de  Thoux. 

"  No.  Father  bought  her  once,  in  one  of  his  trips  to  New 
Orleans,  and  brought  her  up  as  a  present  to  mother.  She 
was  about  eight  or  nine  years  old  then.  Father  would  never 
tell  mother  what  he  gave  for  her  ;  but  the  other  day,  in  look 
ing  over  his  old  papers,  we  came  across  the  bill  of  sale.  He 
paid  an  extravagant  sum  for  her,  to  be  sure.  I  suppose,  on 
account  of  her  extraordinary  beauty. " 

George  sat  with  his  back  to  Gassy,  and  did  not  see  the 
absorbed  expression  of  her  countenance  as  he  was  giving 
these  details. 

At  this  point  in  the  story,  she  touched  his  arm,  and,  with 
a  face  perfectly  white  with  interest,  said,  "  Do  you  know 
the  names  of  the  people  he  bought  her  of  ?  " 

"  A  man  of  the  name  of  Simmons,  I  think,  was  the  prin 
cipal  in  the  transaction.  At  least,  I  think  that  was  the  name 
on  the  bill  of  sale." 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  "  said  Gassy,  and  fell  insensible  on  the 
floor  of  the  cabin. 

George  was  wide  awake  now,  and  so  was  Madame  de 
Thoux.  Though  neither  of  them  could  conjecture  what  was 
the  cause  of  Gassy 's  fainting,  still  they  made  all  the  tumult 
which  is  proper  in  such  cases ;  —  George  upsetting  a  wash- 
pitcher  and  breaking  two  tumblers,  in  the  warmth  of  his 
humanity ;  and  various  ladies  in  the  cabin,  hearing  that  some 
body  had  fainted,  crowded  the  stateroom  door,  and  kept  out 
all  the  air  they  possibly  could,  so  that,  on  the  whole,  every 
thing  was  done  that  could  be  expected. 

Poor  Gassy,  when  she  recovered,  turned  her  face  to  the 
wall,  and  wept  and  sobbed  like  a  child.  Perhaps,  mother, 
you  can  tell  what  she  was  thinking  of !  Perhaps  you  can 
not  ;  but  she  felt  as  sure,  in  that  hour,  that  God  had  had 
mercy  on  her,  and  that  she  should  see  her  daughter,  as  she 
did,  months  afterwards,  when  —  But  we  anticipate. 


224  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN;    OR 


CHAPTER   XLIII 

RESULTS 

THE  rest  of  our  story  is  soon  told.  George  Shelby, 
interested,  as  any  other  young  man  might  be,  by  the  romance 
of  the  incident,  no  less  than  by  feelings  of  humanity,  was 
at  the  pains  to  send  to  Gassy  the  bill  of  sale  of  Eliza,  whose 
date  and  name  all  corresponded  with  her  own  knowledge  of 
facts,  and  left  no  doubt  upon  her  mind  as  to  the  identity  of 
her  child.  It  remained  now  only  for  her  to  trace  out  the 
path  of  the  fugitives. 

Madame  de  Thoux  and  she,  thus  drawn  together  by  the 
singular  coincidence  of  their  fortunes,  proceeded  immediately 
to  Canada,  and  began  a  tour  of  inquiry  among  the  stations 
where  the  numerous  fugitives  from  slavery  are  located. 
At  Amherstburg  they  found  the  missionary  with  whom 
George  and  Eliza  had  taken  shelter  on  their  first  arrival  in 
Canada  ;  and  through  him  were  enabled  to  trace  the  family 
to  Montreal. 

George  and  Eliza  had  now  been  five  years  free.  George 
had  found  constant  occupation  in  the  shop  of  a  worthy 
machinist,  where  he  had  been  earning  a  competent  support 
for  his  family,  which  in  the  mean  time  had  been  increased 
by  the  addition  of  another  daughter. 

Little  Harry  —  a  fine,  bright  boy  —  had  been  put  to  a 
good  school,  and  was  making  rapid  proficiency  in  knowledge. 

The  worthy  pastor  of  the  station  in  Amherstburg,  where 
George  had  first  landed,  was  so  much  interested  in  the 
statements  of  Madame  de  Thoux  and  Cassy,  that  he  yielded 
to  the  solicitations  of  the  former  to  accompany  them  to 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  225 

Montreal,  in  their  search,  —  she  bearing  all  the  expense  of 
the  expedition. 

The  scene  now  changes  to  a  small,  neat  tenement,  in  the 
outskirts  of  Montreal  ;  the  time,  evening.  A  cheerful  fire 
blazes  on  the  hearth;  a  tea-table,  covered  with  a  snowy 
cloth,  stands  prepared  for  the  evening  meal.  In  one 
corner  of  the  room  was  a  table  covered  with  a  green  cloth, 
where  was  an  open  writing-desk,  pens,  paper,  and  over  it  a 
shelf  of  well-selected  books. 

This  was  George's  study.  The  same  zeal  for  self-improve 
ment,  which  led  him  to  steal  the  much  coveted  arts  of 
reading  and  writing,  amid  all  the  toils  and  discouragements 
of  his  early  life,  still  led  him  to  devote  all  his  leisure  time 
to  self-cultivation. 

At  this  present  time,  he  is  seated  at  the  table,  making  notes 
from  a  volume  of  the  family  library  he  has  been  reading. 

"  Come,  George,"  says  Eliza,  "  you  've  been  gone  all  day. 
Do  put  down  that  book,  and  let 's  talk,  while  I  'm  getting 
tea, —do." 

And  little  Eliza  seconds  the  effort,  by  toddling  up  to  her 
father,  and  trying  to  pull  the  book  out  of  his  hand,  and 
install  herself  on  his  knee  as  a  substitute. 

"  Oh,  you  little  witch  !  "  says  George,  yielding,  as  in 
such  circumstances  man  always  must. 

"  That 's  right,"  says  Eliza,  as  she  begins  to  cut  a  loaf  of 
bread.  A  little  older  she  looks ;  her  form  a  little  fuller ; 
her  air  more  matronly  than  of  yore  ;  but  evidently  contented 
and  happy  as  woman  need  be. 

"  Harry,  my  boy,  how  did  you  come  on  in  that  sum  to 
day  ?  "  says  George,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  son's  head. 

Harry  has  lost  his  long  curls ;  but  he  can  never  lose  those 
eyes  and  eyelashes,  and  that  fine,  bold  brow,  that  flushes 
with  triumph  as  he  answers,  "  I  did  it,  every  bit  of  it,  my 
self,  father ;  and  nobody  helped  me  !  " 

"  That 's  right,"  says  his  father ;   "  depend  on  yourself, 

VOL.  II. 


226  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

my  son.  You  have  a  better  chance  than  ever  your  poor 
father  had." 

At  this  moment  there  is  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  Eliza 
goes  and  opens  it.  The  delighted  "  Why  !  —  this  you  ?  " 
calls  up  her  husband ;  and  the  good  pastor  of  Amherstburg 
is  welcomed.  There  are  two  women  with  him,  and  Eliza 
asks  them  to  sit  down. 

Now,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  the  honest  pastor  had 
arranged  a  little  programme,  according  to  which  this  affair 
was  to  develop  itself;  and,  on  the  way  up,  all  had  very 
cautiously  and  prudently  exhorted  each  other  not  to  let 
things  out,  except  according  to  previous  arrangement. 

What  was  the  good  man's  consternation,  therefore,  just  as 
he  had  motioned  to  the  ladies  to  be  seated,  and  was  taking 
out  his  pocket-handkerchief  to  wipe  his  mouth,  so  as  to  pro 
ceed  to  his  introductory  speech  in  good  order,  when  Madame 
de  Thoux  upset  the  whole  plan,  by  throwing  her  arms 
around  George's  neck,  and  letting  all  out  at  once,  by  saying, 
"  Oh,  George  !  don't  you  know  me  ?  I  'm  your  sister 
Emily." 

Gassy  had  seated  herself  more  composedly,  and  would 
have  carried  on  her  part  very  well,  had  not  little  Eliza  sud 
denly  appeared  before  her  in  exact  shape  and  form,  every 
outline  and  curl,  just  as  her  daughter  was  when  she  saw  her 
last.  The  little  thing  peered  up  in  her  face  ;  and  Gassy 
caught  her  up  in  her  arms,  pressed  her  to  her  bosom,  saying, 
what  at  the  moment  she  really  believed,  "  Darling,  I  'm 
your  mother ! " 

In  fact,  it  was  a  troublesome  matter  to  do  up  exactly  in 
proper  order ;  but  the  good  pastor  at  last  succeeded  in  get 
ting  everybody  quiet,  and  delivering  the  speech  with  which 
he  had  intended  to  open  the  exercises  ;  and  in  which  at  last 
he  succeeded  so  well,  that  his  whole  audience  were  sobbing 
about  him  in  a  manner  that  ought  to  satisfy  any  orator, 
ancient  or  modern. 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  227 

They  knelt  together,  and  the  good  man  prayed,  —  for 
there  are  some  feelings  so  agitated  and  tumultuous  that 
they  can  find  rest  only  by  being  poured  into  the  bosom  of 
Almighty  love,  —  and  then,  rising  up,  the  new-found  family 
embraced  each  other,  with  a  holy  trust  in  Him  who  from 
such  peril  and  dangers,  and  by  such  unknown  ways,  had 
brought  them  together. 

The  notebook  of  a  missionary  among  the  Canadian  fugi 
tives  contains  truth  stranger  than  fiction.  How  can  it  be 
otherwise,  when  a  system  prevails  which  whirls  families  and 
scatters  their  members,  as  the  wind  whirls  and  scatters  the 
leaves  of  autumn  ?  These  shores  of  refuge,  like  the  eternal 
shore,  often  unite  again,  in  glad  communion,  hearts  that  for 
long  years  have  mourned  each  other  as  lost.  And  affecting 
beyond  expression  is  the  earnestness  with  which  every  new 
arrival  among  them  is  met,  if,  perchance,  it  may  bring  tid 
ings  of  mother,  sister,  child,  or  wife,  still  lost  to  view  in 
the  shadows  of  slavery. 

Deeds  of  heroism  are  wrought  here  more  than  those  of 
romance,  when  defying  torture,  and  braving  death  itself,  the 
fugitive  voluntarily  threads  his  way  back  to  the  terrors  and 
perils  of  that  dark  land,  that  he  may  bring  out  his  sister,  or 
mother,  or  wife. 

One  young  man,  of  whom  a  missionary  has  told  us,  twice 
recaptured,  and  suffering  shameful  stripes  for  his  heroism, 
had  escaped  again ;  and,  in  a  letter  which  we  heard  read, 
tells  his  friends  that  he  is  going  back  a  third  time,  that  he 
may,  at  last,  bring  away  his  sister.  My  good  sir,  is  this 
man  a  hero,  or  a  criminal  ?  Would  not  you  do  as  much  for 
your  sister  ?  And  can  you  blame  him  ? 

But,  to  return  to  our  friends,  whom  we  left  wiping  their 
eyes  and  recovering  themselves  from  too  great  and  sudden 
a  joy.  They  are  now  seated  around  the  social  board,  and 
are  getting  decidedly  companionable ;  only  that  Gassy,  who 
keeps  little  Eliza  on  her  lap,  occasionally  squeezes  the  little 


-_>•_>  8  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

thing  in  a  manner  that  rather  astonishes  her,  and  obstinately 
refuses  to  have  her  mouth  stuffed  with  eake  to  the  extent 
the  little  one  desires,  —  alleging,  what  the  child  rather  won 
ders  at,  that  she  has  got  something  better  than  cake,  and 
does  n't  want  it. 

And,  indeed,  in  two  or  three  days,  such  a  change  has 
passed  over  Cassy  that  our  readers  would  scarcely  know 
her.  The  despairing,  haggard  expression  of  her  face  had 
given  way  to  one  of  gentle  trust.  She  seemed  to  sink  at 
once  into  the.  bosom  of  the  family,  and  take  the  little  ones 
into  her  heart,  as  something  for  which  it  long  had  waited. 
Indeed,  her  love  seemed  to  tlow  more  naturally  to  the  little 
Eliza  than  to  her  own  daughter  ;  for  she  was  the  exact 
image  and  body  of  the  child  whom  she  had  lost.  The  lit 
tle  one  was  a  flowery  bond  between  mother  and  daughter, 
through  whom  grew  up  acquaintanceship  and  affection. 
Eliza's  steady,  consistent  piety,  regulated  by  the  constant 
reading  of  the  sacred  word,  made  her  a  proper  guide  for  the 
shattered  and  wearied  mind  of  her  mother.  Cassy  yielded 
at  once,  and  with  her  whole  soul,  to  every  good  influence, 
and  became  a  devout  and  tender  Christian. 

After  a  day  or  two,  Madame  de  Thoux  told  her  brother 
more  particularly  of  her  affairs.  The  death  of  her  husband 
had  left  her  an  ample  fortune,  which  she  generously  offered 
to  share  with  the  family.  When  she  asked  George  what  way 
she  could  best  apply  it  for  him,  he  answered,  "  Give  me  an 
education,  Emily ;  that  has  always  been  my  heart's  desire. 
Then  I  can  do  all  the  rest." 

On  mature  deliberation,  it  was  decided  that  the  whole 
family  should  go  for  some  years  to  France  ;  whither  they 
sailed,  carrying  Emmeline  with  them. 

The  good  looks  of  the  latter  won  the  affection  of  the  first 
mate  of  the  vessel ;  and,  shortly  after  entering  the  port,  she 
became  his  wife. 

George  remained  four  years  at  a  French  university,  and, 


LIFE   AMONG   THE    LOWLY  229 

applying  himself  with  an  uninterrupted  zeal,  obtained  a  very 
thorough  education. 

Political  troubles  in  France,  at  last,  led  the  family  again 
to  seek  an  asylum  in  this  country. 

George's  feelings  and  views,  as  an  educated  man,  may  be 
best  expressed  in  a  letter  to  one  of  his  friends. 

I  feel  somewhat  at  a  loss  as  to  my  future  course. 
True,  as  you  have  said  to  me,  I  might  mingle  in  the  circles 
of  the  whites  in  this  country,  my  shade  of  color  is  so  slight, 
and  that  of  my  wife  and  family  scarce  perceptible.  Well, 
perhaps,  on  sufferance,  I  might.  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  have  no  wish  to. 

My  sympathies  are  not  for  my  father's  race,  but  for  my 
mother's.  To  him  I  was  no  more  than  a  fine  dog  or  horse  ; 
to  my  poor  heart-broken  mother  I  was  a  child  ;  and,  though 
I  never  saw  her,  after  the  cruel  sale  that  separated  us,  till 
she  died,  yet  I  know  she  always  loved  me  dearly.  I  know 
it  by  my  own  heart.  When  I  think  of  all  she  suffered,  of 
my  own  early  sufferings,  of  the  distresses  and  struggles  of 
my  heroic  wife,  of  my  sister,  sold  in  the  New  Orleans 
slave-market,  —  though  I  hope  to  have  no  unchristian  sen 
timents,  yet  I  may  be  excused  for  saying  I  have  no  wish 
to  pass  for  an  American,  or  to  identify  myself  with  them. 

It  is  with  the  oppressed,  enslaved  African  race  that  I 
cast  in  my  lot ;  and,  if  I  wished  anything,  I  would  wish 
myself  two  shades  darker  rather  than  one  lighter. 

The  desire  and  yearning  of  my  soul  is  for  an  African 
nationality.  I  want  a  people  that  shall  have  a  tangible, 
separate  existence  of  its  own  ;  and  where  am  I  to  look  for 
it  ?  Not  in  Hayti ;  for  in  Hayti  they  had  nothing  to  start 
with.  A  stream  cannot  rise  above  its  fountain.  The  race 
that  formed  the  character  of  the  Haytiens  was  a  worn-out, 
effeminate  one ;  and,  of  course,  the  subject  race  will  be  cen 
turies  in  rising  to  anything. 


230  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

Where,  then,  shall  I  look  ?  On  the  shores  of  Africa  I 
see  a  republic,  —  a  republic  formed  of  picked  men,  who,  by 
energy  and  self-educating  force,  have,  in  many  cases  indi 
vidually,  raised  themselves  above  a  condition  of  slavery. 
Having  gone  through  a  preparatory  stage  of  feebleness,  this 
republic  has  at  last  become  an  acknowledged  nation  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  —  acknowledged  by  both  France  and  Eng 
land.  There  it  is  my  wish  to  go,  and  find  myself  a  people. 

I  am  aware,  now,  that  I  shall  have  you  all  against  me ; 
but,  before  you  strike,  hear  me.  During  my  stay  in  France, 
I  have  followed  up,  with  intense  interest,  the  history  of 
my  people  in  America.  I  have  noted  the  struggle  between 
abolitionist  and  colonizationist,  and  have  received  some  im 
pressions  as  a  distant  spectator  which  could  never  have 
occurred  to  me  as  a  participator. 

I  grant  that  this  Liberia  may  have  subserved  all  sorts 
of  purposes,  by  being  played  off,  in  the  hands  of  our  oppres 
sors,  against  us.  Doubtless  the  scheme  may  have  been 
used,  in  unjustifiable  ways,  as  a  means  of  retarding  our 
emancipation.  But  the  question  to  me  is,  Is  there  not  a 
God  above  all  man's  schemes  ?  May  he  not  have  overruled 
their  designs,  and  founded  for  us  a  nation  by  them  ? 

In  these  days,  a  nation  is  born  in  a  day.  A  nation 
starts  now  with  all  the  great  problems  of  republican  life 
and  civilization  wrought  out  to  its  hand  ;  —  it  has  not  to 
discover,  but  only  to  apply.  Let  us,  then,  all  take  hold 
together,  with  all  our  might,  and  see  what  we  can  do  with 
this  new  enterprise,  and  the  whole  splendid  continent  of 
Africa  opens  before  us  and  our  children.  Our  nation  shall 
roll  the  tide  of  civilization  and  Christianity  along  its  shores, 
and  plant  there  mighty  republics,  that,  growing  with  the 
rapidity  of  tropical  vegetation,  shall  be  for  all  coming  ages. 

Do  you  say  that  I  am  deserting  my  enslaved  brethren  ? 
I  think  not.  If  I  forget  them  one  hour,  one  moment  of 
my  life,  so  may  God  forget  me  !  But  what  can  I  do  for 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  231 

them  here  ?  Can  I  break  their  chains  ?  No,  not  as  an 
individual ;  but  let  me  go  and  form  part  of  a  nation,  which 
shall  have  a  voice  in  the  councils  of  nations,  and  then  we 
can  speak.  A  nation  has  a  right  to  argue,  remonstrate, 
implore,  and  present  the  cause  of  its  race,  —  which  an  indi 
vidual  has  not. 

If  Europe  ever  becomes  a  grand  council  of  free  nations, 
—  as  I  trust  in  God  it  will ;  if,  there,  serfdom  and  all 
unjust  and  oppressive  social  inequalities  are  done  away  ; 
and  if  they,  as  France  and  England  have  done,  acknowledge 
our  position,  —  then,  in  the  great  congress  of  nations  we 
will  make  our  appeal,  and  present  the  cause  of  our  enslaved 
and  suffering  race ;  and  it  cannot  be  that  free,  enlightened 
America  will  not  then  desire  to  wipe  from  her  escutcheon 
that  bar  sinister  which  disgraces  her  among  nations,  and  is 
as  truly  a  curse  to  her  as  to  the  enslaved. 

But,  you  wTill  tell  me,  our  race  have  equal  rights  to 
mingle  in  the  American  republic  as  the  Irishman,  the  Ger 
man,  and  the  Swede.  Granted  they  have.  We  ought  to  be 
free  to  meet  and  mingle,  —  to  rise  by  our  individual  worth, 
without  any  consideration  of  caste  or  color ;  and  they  who 
deny  us  this  right  are  false  to  their  own  professed  principles 
of  human  equality.  .  We  ought,  in  particular,  to  be  allowed 
here.  We  have  more  than  the  rights  of  common  men  ;  — 
we  have  the  claim  of  an  injured  race  for  reparation.  But, 
then,  I  do  not  want  it ;  I  want  a  country,  a  nation,  of  my 
own.  I  think  that  the  African  race  has  peculiarities,  yet  to 
be  unfolded  in  the  light  of  civilization  and  Christianity, 
which,  if  not  the  same  with  those  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  may 
prove  to  be  morally  of  even  a  higher  type. 

To  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  has  been  intrusted  the  des 
tinies  of  the  world,  during  its  pioneer  period  of  struggle  and 
conflict.  To  that  mission  its  stern,  inflexible,  energetic 
elements  were  well  adapted ;  but,  as  a  Christian,  I  look  for 
another  era  to  arise.  On  its  borders  I  trust  we  stand ; 


232  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;   OR 

and  the  throes  that  now  convulse  the  nations  are,  to  my 
hope,  but  the  birth-pangs  of  an  hour  of  universal  peace  and 
brotherhood. 

I  trust  that  the  development  of  Africa  is  to  be  essen 
tially  a  Christian  one.  If  not  a  dominant  and  commanding 
race,  they  are,  at  least,  an  affectionate,  magnanimous,  and 
forgiving  one.  Having  been  called  in  the  furnace  of 
injustice  and  oppression,  they  have  need  to  bind  closer  to 
their  hearts  that  sublime  doctrine  of  love  and  forgiveness, 
through  which  alone  they  are  to  conquer,  which  it  is  to  be 
their  mission  to  spread  over  the  continent  of  Africa. 

In  myself,  I  confess,  I  am  feeble  for  this,  —  full  half 
the  blood  in  my  veins  is  the  hot  and  hasty  Saxon ;  but  I 
have  an  eloquent  preacher  of  the  gospel  ever  by  my  side, 
in  the  person  of  my  beautiful  wife.  When  I  wander,  her 
gentler  spirit  ever  restores  me,  and  keeps  before  my  eyes 
the  Christian  calling  and  mission  of  our  race.  As  a  Chris 
tian  patriot,  as  a  teacher  of  Christianity,  I  go  to  my  country, 
—  my  chosen,  my  glorious  Africa  !  —  and  to  her,  in  my 
heart,  I  sometimes  apply  those  splendid  words  of  prophecy  : 
"  Whereas  thou  hast  been  forsaken  and  hated,  so  that  no 
man  went  through  thee,  /  will  make  thee  an  eternal  excel 
lence,  a  joy  of  many  generations  !  " 

You  will  call  me  an  enthusiast  :  you  will  tell  me  that 
I  have  not  well  considered  what  I  am  undertaking.  But  I 
have  considered,  and  counted  the  cost.  I  go  to  Liberia, 
not  as  to  an  Elysium  of  romance,  but  as  to  afield  of  work. 
I  expect  to  work  with  both  hands,  —  to.  work  hard ;  to 
work  against  all  sorts  of  difficulties  and  discouragements ; 
and  to  work  till  I  die.  This  is  what  I  go  for ;  and  in  this 
I  am  quite  sure  I  shall  not  be  disappointed. 

Whatever  you  may  think  of  my  determination,  do  not 
divorce  me  from  your  confidence  ;  and  think  that,  in  what 
ever  I  do,  I  act  with  a  heart  wholly  given  to  my  people. 

GEORGE  HARRIS. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  233 

George,  with  his  wife,  children,  sister,  and  mother,  em 
barked  for  Africa  some  few  weeks  after.  If  we  are  not 
mistaken,  the  world  will  yet  hear  from  him  here. 

Of  our  other  characters  we  have  nothing  very  particular 
to  write,  except  a  word  relating  to  Miss  Ophelia  and  Topsy, 
and  a  farewell  chapter,  which  we  shall  dedicate  to  George 
Shelby. 

Miss  Ophelia  took  Topsy  home  to  Vermont  with  her, 
much  to  the  surprise  of  that  grave  deliberative  body  whom 
a  New  Englander  recognizes  under  the  term  "  Our  folks." 

"  Our  folks,"  at  first,  thought  it  an  odd  and  unnecessary 
addition  to  their  well-trained  domestic  establishment  ;  but 
so  thoroughly  efficient  was  Miss  Ophelia  in  her  conscien 
tious  endeavor  to  do  her  duty  by  her  eleve,  that  the  child 
rapidly  grew  in  grace  and  in  favor  with  the  family  and 
neighborhood.  At  the  age  of  womanhood,  she  was,  by  her 
own  request,  baptized,  and  became  a  member  of  the  Christian 
church  in  the  place  ;  and  showed  so  much  intelligence,  ac 
tivity,  and  zeal,  and  desire  to  do  good  in  the  world,  that 
she  was  at  last  recommended,  and  approved,  as  a  missionary 
to  one  of  the  stations  in  Africa ;  and  we  have  heard  that 
the  same  activity  and  ingenuity  which,  when  a  child,  made 
her  so  multiform  and  restless  in  her  developments,  is  now 
employed,  in  a  safer  and  wholesomer  manner,  in  teaching 
the  children  of  her  own  country. 

P.  S.  It  will  be  a  satisfaction  to  some  mother,  also,  to 
state,  that  some  inquiries,  which  were  set  on  foot  by 
Madame  de  Thoux,  have  resulted  recently  in  the  discovery 
of  Gassy 's  son.  Being  a  young  man  of  energy,  he  had  es 
caped  some  years  before  his  mother,  and  been  received  and 
educated  by  friends  of  the  oppressed  in  the  North.  He  will 
soon  follow  his  family  to  Africa. 


234  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

THE    LIBERATOR 

GEORGE  SHELBY  had  written  to  his  mother  merely  a 
line,  stating  the  day  that  she  might  expect  him  home.  Of 
the  death  scene  of  his  old  friend  he  had  not  the  heart  to 
write.  He  had  tried  several  times,  and  only  succeeded  in 
half  choking  himself;  and  invariably  finished  by  tearing 
up  the  paper,  wiping  his  eyes,  and  rushing  somewhere  to 
get  quiet. 

There  was  a  pleased  bustle  all  through  the  Shelby  man 
sion,  that  day,  in  expectation  of  the  arrival  of  young  Mas'r 
George. 

Mrs.  Shelby  was  seated  in  her  comfortable  parlor,  where 
a  cheerful  hickory  fire  was  dispelling  the  chill  of  the  late 
autumn  evening.  A  supper-table,  glittering  with  plate 
and  cut  glass,  was  set  out,  on  whose  arrangements  our 
former  friend,  old  Chloe,  was  presiding. 

Arrayed  in  a  new  calico  dress,  with  clean,  white  apron, 
and  high,  well-starched  turban,  her  black  polished  face 
glowing  with  satisfaction,  she  lingered,  with  needless  punc 
tiliousness,  around  the  arrangements  of  the  table,  merely  as 
an  excuse  for  talking  a  little  to  her  mistress. 

"Laws,  now!  won't  it  look  natural  to  him?"  she  said. 
"Thar,  — I  set  his  plate  just  whar  he  likes  it,  — round 
by  the  fire.  Mas'r  George  allers  wants  de  warm  seat. 
Oh,  go  way !  —  why  did  n't  Sally  get  out  de  best  teapot,  — 
de  little  new  one,  Mas'r  George  got  for  Missis,  Christmas? 
I'll  have  it  out!  And  Missis  has  heard  from  Mas'r 
George  ?  "  she  said  inquiringly. 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  LOWLY  235 

"Yes,  Chloe;  but  only  a  line,  just  to  say  he  would  be 
home  to-night,  if  he  could,  — that 's  all." 

"Didn't  say  nothin'  'bout  my  old  man,  s'pose?"  said 
Chloe,  still  fidgeting  with  the  teacups. 

"]STo,  he  didn't.  He  did  not  speak  of  anything,  Chloe. 
He  said  he  would  tell  all  when  he  got  home." 

"  Jes  like  Mas'r  George,  — he  's  allers  so  ferce  for  tellin' 
everything  hisself.  I  allers  minded  dat  ar  in  Mas'r  George. 
Don't  see,  for  my  part,  how  white  people  gen'lly  can  bar 
to  hev  to  write  things  much  as  they  do,  writin'  's  such 
slow,  oneasy  kind  o'  work." 

Mrs.  Shelby  smiled. 

"I'm  a-thinkin'  my  old  man  won't  know  de  boys  and 
de  baby.  Lor!  she  's  de  biggest  gal,  now,  — good  she  is, 
too,  and  peart,  Polly  is.  She  's  out  to  the  house,  now, 
watchin'  de  hoe-cake.  I 's  got  jist  de  very  pattern  my  old 
man  liked  so  much,  a-bakin'.  Jist  sich  as  I  gin  him  the 
mornin'  he  was  took  off.  Lord  bless  us !  how  I  felt  dat 
ar  morning ! " 

Mrs.  Shelby  sighed,  and  felt  a  heavy  weight  on  her 
heart,  at  this  allusion.  She  had  felt  uneasy,  ever  since  she 
received  her  son's  letter,  lest  something  should  prove  to  be 
hidden  behind  the  veil  of  silence  which  he  had  drawn. 

"Missis  has  got  dem  bills?  "  said  Chloe  anxiously. 

"Yes,  Chloe." 

"  'Cause  I  wants  to  show  my  old  man  dem  very  bills  de 
perfectioner  gave  me.  'And, '  says  he,  *  Chloe,  I  wish 
you  'd  stay  longer. '  '  Thank  you,  Mas'r, '  says  I,  '  I  would, 
only  my  old  man  's  coming  home,  and  Missis,  — she  can't 
do  without  me  no  longer.'  There's  jist  what  I  telled 
him.  Bery  nice  man,  dat  Mas'r  Jones  was." 

Chloe  had  pertinaciously  insisted  that  the  .very  bills  in 
which  her  wages  had  been  paid  should  be  preserved,  to 
show  to  her  husband,  in  memorial  of  her  capability.  And 
Mrs.  Shelby  had  readily  consented  to  humor  her  in  the  re 
quest. 


236  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

"He  won't  know  Polly,  — my  old  man  won't.  Laws, 
it 's  five  year  since  they  tuck  him!  She  was  a  baby  den, 
—  could  n't  but  jist  stand.  Remember  how  tickled  he 
used  to  be  'cause  she  would  keep  a-fallin'  over,  when  she 
sot  out  to  walk.  Laws  a  me !  " 

The  rattling  of  wheels  now  was  heard. 

"Mas'r  George! "  said  Aunt  Chloe,  starting  to  the  win 
dow. 

Mrs.  Shelby  ran  to  the  entry  door,  and  was  folded  in 
the  arms  of  her  son.  Aunt  Chloe  stood  anxiously  strain 
ing  her  eyes  out  into  the  darkness. 

"  Oh,  poor  Aunt  Chloe ! "  said  George,  stopping  com 
passionately,  and  taking  her  hard,  black  hand  between  both 
his;  "  I  'd  have  given  all  my  fortune  to  have  brought  him 
with  me,  but  he  's  gone  to  a  better  country." 

There  was  a  passionate  exclamation  from  Mrs.  Shelby, 
but  Aunt  Chloe  said  nothing. 

The  party  entered  the  supper-room.  The  money,  of 
which  Chloe  was  so  proud,  was  still  lying  on  the  table. 

"Thar,"  said  she,  gathering  it  up,  and  holding  it,  with 
a  trembling  hand,  to  her  mistress,  "don't  never  want  to  see 
nor  hear  on  't  again.  Jist  as  I  knew  't  would  be,  — sold, 
and  murdered  on  dem  ar  old  plantations !  " 

Chloe  turned,  and  was  walking  proudly  out  of  the  room. 
Mrs.  Shelby  followed  her  softly  and  took  one  of  her  hands, 
drew  her  down  into  a  chair,  and  sat  down  by  her. 

"  My  poor,  good  Chloe !  "  said  she. 

Chloe  leaned  her  head  on  her  mistress's  shoulder,  and 
sobbed  out,  "Oh,  Missis!  'sense  me,  my  heart's  broke,  — 
dat's  all!" 

"I  know  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Shelby,  as  her  tears  fell  fast; 
"and  I  cannot  heal  it,  but  Jesus  can.  He  healeth  the 
broken-hearted,  and  bindeth  up  their  wounds." 

There  was  a  silence  for  some  time,  and  all  wept  to 
gether.  At  last,  George,  sitting  down  beside  the,  mourner, 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  LOWLY  237 

took  her  hand,  and,  with  simple  pathos,  repeated  the 
triumphant  scene  of  her  husband's  death  and  his  last  mes 
sages  of  love. 

About  a  month  after  this,  one  morning,  all  the  servants 
of  the  Shelby  estate  were  convened  together  in  the  great 
hall  that  ran  through  the  house,  to  hear  a  few  words  from 
their  young  master. 

To  the  surprise  of  all,  he  appeared  among  them  with  a 
bundle  of  papers  in  his  hand,  containing  a  certificate  of 
freedom  to  every  one  on  the  place,  which  he  read  succes 
sively,  and  presented,  amid  the  sobs  and  tears  and  shouts 
of  all  present. 

Many,  however,  pressed  around  him,  earnestly  begging 
him  not  to  send  them  away ;  and,  with  anxious  faces,  ten 
dering  back  their  free  papers. 

"  We  don't  want  to  be  no  freer  than  we  are.  We  's  allers 
had  all  we  wanted.  We  don't  want  to  leave  de  old  place, 
and  Mas'r  and  Missis,  and  de  rest! " 

"My  good  friends,"  said  George,  as  soon  as  he  could 
get  a  silence,  "there'll  be  no  need  for  you  to  leave  me. 
The  place  wants  as  many  hands  to  work  it  as  it  did  before. 
We  need  the  same  about  the  house  that  we  did  before. 
But  you  are  now  free  men  and  free  women.  I  shall  pay 
you  wages  for  your  work,  such  as  we  shall  agree  on.  The 
advantage  is,  that  in  case  of  my  getting  in  debt,  or  dying, 
—  things  that  might  happen,  —  you  cannot  now  be  taken 
up  and  sold.  I  expect  to  carry  on  the  estate,  and  to  teach 
you  what,  perhaps,  it  will  take  you  some  time  to  learn,  — 
how  to  use  the  rights  I  give  you  as  free  men  and  women. 
I  expect  you  to  be  good,  and  willing  to  learn;  and  I  trust 
in  God  that  I  shall  be  faithful,  and  willing  to  teach.  And 
now,  my  friends,  look  up,  and  thank  God  for  the  blessing 
of  freedom." 

An  aged,  patriarchal  negro,  who  had  grown  gray  and 
blind  on  the  estate,  now  rose,  and,  lifting  his  trembling 


238  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

hand,  said,  "Let  us  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord!"  As  all 
kneeled  by  one  consent,  a  more  touching  and  hearty  Te 
Deum  never  ascended  to  heaven,  though  borne  on  the  peal 
of  organ,  bell,  and  cannon,  than  came  from  that  honest  old 
heart. 

On  rising,  another  struck  up  a  Methodist  hymn,  of  which 
the  burden  was,  — 

"  The  year  of  Jubilee  is  come,  — 
Return,  ye  ransomed  sinners,  home." 

"One  thing  more,"  said  George,  as  he  stopped  the  con 
gratulations  of  the  throng;  "you  all  remember  our  good 
old  Uncle  Tom  ?  " 

George  here  gave  a  short  narration  of  the  scene  of  his 
death,  and  of  his  loving  farewell  to  all  on  the  place,  and 
added,  — 

"It  was  on  his  grave,  my  friends,  that  I  resolved, 
before  God,  that  I  would  never  own  another  slave  while  it 
was  possible  to  free  him;  that  nobody,  through  me,  should 
ever  run  the  risk  of  being  parted  from  home  and  friends 
and  dying  on  a  lonely  plantation,  as  he  died.  So,  when 
you  rejoice  in  your  freedom,  think  that  you  owe  it  to  that 
good  old  soul,  and  pay  it  back  in  kindness  to  his  wife  and 
children.  Think  of  your  freedom,  every  time  you  see 
UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  and  let  it  be  a  memorial  to  put  you 
all  in  mind  to  follow  in  his  steps,  and  be  as  honest  and 
faithful  and  Christian  as  he  was." 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  239 


CHAPTER   XLV 

CONCLUDING    REMARKS 

THE  writer  has  often  been  inquired  of,  by  correspond 
ents  from  different  parts  of  the  country,  whether  this 
narrative  is  a  true  one ;  and  to  these  inquiries  she  will  give 
one  general  answer. 

The  separate  incidents  that  compose  the  narrative  are  to 
a  very  great  extent  authentic,  occurring,  many  of  them, 
either  under  her  own  observation  or  that  of  her  personal 
friends.  She  or  her  friends  have  observed  characters  the 
counterpart  of  almost  all  that  are  here  introduced;  and 
many  of  the  sayings  are  word  for  word  as  heard  herself,  or 
reported  to  her. 

The  personal  appearance  of  Eliza,  the  character  ascribed 
to  her,  are  sketches  drawn  from  life.  The  incorruptible 
fidelity,  piety,  and  honesty  of  Uncle  Tom  had  more  than 
one  development,  to  her  personal  knowledge.  Some  of  the 
most  deeply  tragic  and  romantic,  some  of  the  most  terrible 
incidents,  have  also  their  parallel  in  reality.  The  incident 
of  the  mother's  crossing  the  Ohio  River  on  the  ice  is  a 
well-known  fact. 

The  story  of  "old  Prue  "  (Chapter  XIX.)  was  an  inci 
dent  that  fell  under  the  personal  observation  of  a  brother  of 
the  writer,  then  collecting-clerk  to  a  large  mercantile  house 
in  New  Orleans.  From  the  same  source  was  derived  the 
character  of  the  planter  Legree.  Of  him  her  brother  thus 
wrote,  speaking  of  visiting  his  plantation  on  a  collecting 
tour:  "He  actually  made  me  feel  of  his  fist,  which  was 
like  a  blacksmith's  hammer,  or  a  nodule  of  iron,  telling  me 


240  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  ;    OR 

that  it  was  '  calloused  with  knocking  down  niggers. ' 
When  I  left  the  plantation,  I  drew  a  long  breath,  and  felt 
as  if  I  had  escaped  from  an  ogre's  den." 

That  the  tragical  fate  of  Tom,  also,  has  too  many  times 
had  its  parallel,  there  are  living  witnesses,  all  over  our 
land,  to  testify.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  in  all  south 
ern  States  it  is  a  principle  of  jurisprudence  that  no  person 
of  colored  lineage  can  testify  in  a  suit  against  a  white,  and 
it  will  be  easy  to  see  that  such  a  case  may  occur,  wherever 
there  is  a  man  whose  passions  outweigh  his  interests,  and 
a  slave  who  has  manhood  or  principle  enough  to  resist  his 
will.  There  is  actually  nothing  to  protect  the  slave's  life 
but  the  character  of  the  master.  Facts  too  shocking  to  be 
contemplated  occasionally  force  their  way  to  the  public  ear, 
and  the  comment  that  one  often  hears  made  on  them  is 
more  shocking  than  the  thing  itself.  It  is  said,  "Very 
likely  such  cases  may  now  and  then  occur,  but  they  are  no 
samples  of  general  practice."  If  the  laws  of  New  England 
were  so  arranged  that  a  master  could  noiu  and  then  tor 
ture  an  apprentice  to  death,  without  a  possibility  of  being 
brought  to  justice,  would  it  be  received  with  equal  com 
posure  ?  Would  it  be  said,  "  These  cases  are  rare,  and  no 
samples  of  general  practice  "  ?  This  injustice  is  an  inher 
ent  one  in  the  slave  system,  —  it  cannot  exist  without  it. 

The  public  and  shameless  sale  of  beautiful  mulatto  and 
quadroon  girls  has  acquired  a  notoriety,  from  the  incidents 
following  the  capture  of  the  Pearl.  We  extract  the  follow 
ing  from  the  speech  of  Hon.  Horace  Mann,  one  of  the  legal 
counsel  for  the  defendants  in  that  case.  He  says:  "In 
that  company  of  seventy-six  persons,  who  attempted,  in 
1848,  to  escape  from  the  District  of  Columbia  in  the 
schooner  Pearl,  and  whose  officers  I  assisted  in  defending, 
there  were  several  young  and  healthy  girls,  who  had  those 
peculiar  attractions  of  form  and  feature  which  connoisseurs 
prize  so  highly.  Elizabeth  Eussel  was  one  of  them.  She 


LIFE   AMONG  THE  LOWLY  241 

immediately  fell  into  the  slave-trader's  fangs,  and  was 
doomed  for  the  New  Orleans  market.  The  hearts  of  those 
that  saw  her  were  touched  with  pity  for  her  fate.  They 
offered  eighteen  hundred  dollars  to  redeem  her;  and  some 
there  were  who  offered  to  give  that  would  not  have  much 
left  after  the  gift;  but  the  fiend  of  a  slave-trader  was  in 
exorable.  She  was  dispatched  to  New  Orleans;  but  when 
about  halfway  there  God  had  mercy  on  her,  and  smote 
her  with  death.  There  were  two  girls  named  Edmundson 
in  the  same  company.  When  about  to  be  sent  to  the  same 
market,  an  older  sister  went  to  the  shambles,  to  plead 
with  the  wretch  who  owned  them,  for  the  love  of  God, 
to  spare  his  victims.  He  bantered  her,  telling  what  fine 
dresses  and  fine  furniture  they  would  have.  '  Yes, '  she 
said,  '  that  may  do  very  well  in  this  life,  but  what  will  be 
come  of  them  in  the  next  ? '  They  too  were  sent  to  New 
Orleans;  but  were  afterwards  redeemed,  at  an  enormous 
ransom,  and  brought  back."  Is  it  not  plain,  from  this, 
that  the  histories  of  Emmeline  and  Gassy  may  have  many 
counterparts  1 

Justice,  too,  obliges  the  author  to  state  that  the  fairness 
of  mind  and  generosity  attributed  to  St.  Clare  are  not  with 
out  a  parallel,  as  the  following  anecdote  will  show.  A.  few 
years  since,  a  young  Southern  gentleman  was  in  Cincinnati, 
with  a  favorite  servant,  who  had  been  his  personal  attend 
ant  from  a  boy.  The  young  man  took  advantage  of  this 
opportunity  to  secure  his  own  freedom,  and  fled  to  the 
protection  of  a  Quaker,  who  was  quite  noted  in  affairs  of 
this  kind.  The  owner  was  exceedingly  indignant.  He 
had  always  treated  the  slave  with  such  indulgence,  and  his 
confidence  in  his  affection  was  such,  that  he  believed  he 
must  have  been  practiced  upon  to  induce  him  to  revolt 
from  him.  He  visited  the  Quaker,  in  high  anger;  but, 
being  possessed  of  uncommon  candor  and  fairness,  was 
soon  quieted  by  his  arguments  and  representations.  It 

VOL.  II. 


242  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

was  a  side  of  the  subject  which  he  never  had  heard,  — 
never  had  thought  on ;  and  he  immediately  told  the  Quaker 
that  if  his  slave  would,  to  his  own  face,  say  that  it  was 
his  desire  to  be  free,  he  would  liberate  him.  An  interview 
was  forthwith  procured,  and  Nathan  was  asked  by  his 
young  master  whether  he  had  ever  had  any  reason  to  com 
plain  of  his  treatment,  in  any  respect. 

"No,  Mas 'r,"  said  Nathan;  "you've  always  been  good 
to  me." 

"Well,  then,  why  do  you  want  to  leave  me?7' 

"Mas'r  may  die,  and  then  who  get  me?  —  I'd  rather 
be  a  free  man." 

After  some  deliberation,  the  young  master  replied, 
"Nathan,  in  your  place,  I  think  I  should  feel  very  much 
so,  myself.  You  are  free." 

He  immediately  made  him  out  free  papers,  deposited  a 
sum  of  money  in  the  hands  of  the  Quaker,  to  be  judi 
ciously  used  in  assisting  him  to  start  in  life,  and  left  a 
very  sensible  and  kind  letter  of  advice  to  the  young  man. 
That  letter  was  for  some  time  in  the  writer's  hands. 

The  author  hopes  she  has  done  justice  to  that  nobility, 
generosity,  and  humanity  which  in  many  cases  character 
ize  individuals  at  the  South.  Such  instances  save  us  from 
utter  despair  of  our  kind.  But,  she  asks  any  person  who 
knows  the  world,  are  such  characters  common,  anywhere  1 

For  many  years  of  her  life,  the  author  avoided  all  read 
ing  upon  or  allusion  to  the  subject  of  slavery,  considering 
it  as  too  painful  to  be  inquired  into,  and  one  which  advan 
cing  light  and  civilization  would  certainly  live  down.  But 
since  the  legislative  act  of  1850,  when  she  heard,  with  per 
fect  surprise  and  consternation,  Christian  and  humane  peo 
ple  actually  recommending  the  remanding  escaped  fugitives 
into  slavery,  as  a  duty  binding  on  good  citizens,  —  when 
she  heard  on  all  hands,  from  kind,  compassionate,  and  es 
timable  people,  in  the  free  States  of  the  North,  delibera- 


LIFE  AMONG  THE   LOWLY  243 

tions  and  discussions  as  to  what  Christian  duty  could  be  on 
this  head,  she  could  only  think,  These  men  and  Christians 
cannot  know  what  slavery  is;  if  they  did,  such  a  question 
could  never  be  open  for  discussion.  And  from  this  arose 
a  desire  to  exhibit  it  in  a  living  dramatic  reality.  She 
has  endeavored  to  show  it  fairly,  in  its  best  and  its  worst 
phases.  In  its  lest  aspect,  she  has,  perhaps,  been  suc 
cessful;  but,  oh!  who  shall  say  what  yet  remains  untold  in 
that  valley  and  shadow  of  death  that  lies  the  other  side  ? 

To  you,  generous,  noble-minded  men  and  women,  of  the 
South,  —  you,  whose  virtue,  and  magnanimity,  and  purity 
of  character  are  the  greater  for  the  severer  trial  it  has 
encountered,  —  to  you  is  her  appeal.  Have  you  not,  in 
your  own  secret  souls,  in  your  own  private  conversings,  felt 
that  there  are  woes  and  evils,  in  this  accursed  system,  far 
beyond  what  are  here  shadowed,  or  can  be  shadowed?  Can 
it  be  otherwise  ?  Is  man  ever  a  creature  to  be  trusted 
with  wholly  irresponsible  power1?  And  does  not  the  slave 
system,  by  denying  the  slave  all  legal  right  of  testimony, 
make  every  individual  owner  an  irresponsible  despot  1  Can 
anybody  fail  to  make  the  inference  what  the  practical  re 
sult  will  be  1  If  there  is,  as  we  admit,  a  public  sentiment 
among  you,  men  of  honor,  justice,  and  humanity,  is  there 
not  also  another  kind  of  public  sentiment  among  the  ruffian, 
the  brutal,  and  debased?  And  cannot  the  ruffian,  the 
brutal,  the  debased,  by  slave  law,  own  just  as  many  slaves 
as  the  best  and  purest?  Are  the  honorable,  the  just,  the 
high-minded  and  compassionate,  the  majority  anywhere  in 
this  world? 

The  slave-trade  is  now,  by  American  law,  considered  as 
piracy.  But  a  slave  -  trade,  as  systematic  as  ever  was 
carried  on  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  is  an  inevitable  attend 
ant  and  result  of  American  slavery.  And  its  heart-break 
and  its  horrors  —  can  they  be  told  ? 

The  writer  has  given  only  a  faint  shadow,  a  dim  pic- 


244  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

ture,  of  the  anguish  and  despair  that  are,  at  this  very 
moment,  riving  thousands  of  hearts,  shattering  thousands 
of  families,  and  driving  a  helpless  and  sensitive  race  to 
frenzy  and  despair.  There  are  those  living  who  know  the 
mothers  whom  this  accursed  traffic  has  driven  to  the  mur 
der  of  their  children ;  and  themselves  seeking  in  death  a 
shelter  from  woes  more  dreaded  than  death.  Nothing  of 
tragedy  can  be  written,  can  be  spoken,  can  be  conceived, 
that  equals  the  frightful  reality  of  scenes  daily  and  hourly 
acting  on  our  shores,  beneath  the  shadow  of  American 
law  and  the  shadow  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

And  now,  men  and  women  of  America,  is  this  a  thing 
to  be  trifled  with,  apologized  for,  and  passed  over  in 
silence  ?  Farmers  of  Massachusetts,  of  New  Hampshire,  of 
Vermont,  of  Connecticut,  who  read  this  book  by  the  blaze 
of  your  winter  evening  fire,  —  strong  -  hearted,  generous 
sailors  and  ship-owners  of  Maine,  —  is  this  a  thing  for  you 
to  countenance  and  encourage?  Brave  and  generous  men 
of  New  York,  farmers  of  rich  and  joyous  Ohio,  and  ye  of 
the  wide  prairie  States,  —  answer,  is  this  a  thing  for  you  to 
protect  and  countenance  1  And  you,  mothers  of  America, 
you,  who  have  learned,  by  the  cradles  of  your  own  chil 
dren,  to  love  and  feel  for  all  mankind,  —  by  the  sacred 
love  you  bear  your  child;  by  your  joy  in  his  beautiful, 
spotless  infancy ;  by  the  motherly  pity  and  tenderness  with 
which  you  guide  his  growing  years ;  by  the  anxieties  of  his 
education;  by  the  prayers  you  breathe  for  his  soul's  eternal 
good ;  —  I  beseech  you,  pity  the  mother  who  has  all  your 
affections,  and  not  one  legal  right  to  protect,  guide,  or 
educate  the  child  of  her  bosom !  By  the  sick-hour  of  your 
child ;  by  those  dying  eyes,  which  you  can  never  forget ; 
by  those  last  cries,  that  wrung  your  heart  when  you  could 
neither  help  nor  save;  by  the  desolation  of  that  empty 
cradle,  that  silent  nursery,  —  I  beseech  you,  pity  those 
mothers  that  are  constantly  made  childless  by  the  Ameri- 


LIFE   AMONG   THE   LOWLY  245 

can  slave-trade !  And  say,  mothers  of  America,  is  this  a 
thing  to  be  defended,  sympathized  with,  passed  over  in 
silence  ? 

Do  you  say  that  the  people  of  the  free  States  have  no 
thing  to  do  with  it,  and  can  do  nothing  ?  Would  to  God 
this  were  true!  But  it  is  not  true.  The  people  of  the 
free  States  have  defended,  encouraged,  and  participated; 
and  are  more  guilty  for  it,  before  God,  than  the  South,  in 
that  they  have  not  the  apology  of  education  or  custom. 

If  the  mothers  of  the  free  States  had  all  felt  as  they 
should,  in  times  past,  the  sons  of  the  free  States  would 
not  have  been  the  holders,  and,  proverbially,  the  hardest 
masters  of  slaves;  the  sons  of  the  free  States  would  not 
have  connived  at  the  extension  of  slavery,  in  our  national 
body;  the  sons  of  the  free  States  would  not,  as  they  do, 
trade  the  souls  and  bodies  of  men  as  an  equivalent  to 
money,  in  their  mercantile  dealings.  There  are  multitudes 
of  slaves  temporarily  owned,  and  sold  again,  by  merchants 
in  Northern  cities;  and  shall  the  whole  guilt  or  obloquy  of 
slavery  fall  only  on  the  South  1 

Northern  men,  Northern  mothers,  Northern  Christians, 
have  something  more  to  do  than  denounce  their  brethren 
at  the  South;  they  have  to  look  to  the  evil  among  them 
selves. 

But,  what  can  any  individual  do?  Of  that,  every  indi 
vidual  can  judge.  There  is  one  thing  that  every  individ 
ual  can  do,  —  they  can  see  to  it  that  they  feel  right.  An 
atmosphere  of  sympathetic  influence  encircles  every  human 
being;  and  the  man  or  woman  who  feels  strongly,  health 
ily,  and  justly  on  the  great  interests  of  humanity  is  a  con-; 
stant  benefactor  to  the  human  race.  See,  then,  to  your 
sympathies  in  this  matter!  Are  they  in  harmony  with  the 
sympathies  of  Christ?  or  are  they  swayed  and  perverted 
by  the  sophistries  of  worldly  policy  1 
m  Christian  men  and  women  of  the  North !  still  further,  — 


246  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

you  have  another  power ;  you  can  pray  !  Do  you  believe 
in  prayer?  or  has  it  become  an  indistinct  apostolic  tradi 
tion  ?  You  pray  for  the  heathen  abroad ;  pray  also  for  the 
heathen  at  home.  And  pray  for  those  distressed  Christians 
whose  whole  chance  of  religious  improvement  is  an  acci 
dent  of  trade  and  sale;  from  whom  any  adherence  to  the 
morals  of  Christianity  is,  in  many  cases,  an  impossibility, 
unless  they  have  given  them  from  above  the  courage  and 
grace  of  martyrdom. 

But,  still  more.  On  the  shores  of  our  free  States  are 
emerging  the  poor,  shattered,  broken  remnants  of  families, 
—  men  and  women  escaped,  by  miraculous  providences, 
from  the  surges  of  slavery,  —  feeble  in  knowledge,  and  in 
many  cases  infirm  in  moral  constitution,  from  a  system 
which  confounds  and  confuses  every  principle  of  Christian 
ity  and  morality.  They  come  to  seek  a  refuge  among  you; 
they  come  to  seek  education,  knowledge,  Christianity. 

What  do  you  owe  to  these  poor  unfortunates,  0  Chris 
tians?  Does  not  every  American  Christian  owe  to  the 
African  race  some  effort  at  reparation  for  the  wrongs  that 
the  American  nation  has  brought  upon  them  ?  Shall  the 
doors  of  churches  and  school-houses  be  shut  upon  them1? 
Shall  States  arise  and  shake  them  out?  Shall  the  Church 
of  Christ  hear  in  silence  the  taunt  that  is  thrown  at  them, 
and  shrink  away  from  the  helpless  hand  that  they  stretch 
out;  and  by  her  silence  encourage  the  cruelty  that  would 
chase  them  from  our  borders  ?  If  it  must  be  so,  it  will  be 
a  mournful  spectacle.  If  it  must  be  so,  the  country  will 
have  reason  to  tremble,  when  it  remembers  that  the  fate  of 
nations  is  in  the  hands  of  One  who  is  very  pitiful,  and  of 
tender  compassion. 

Do  you  say,  "We  don't  want  them  here;  let  them  go  to 
Africa  » 1 

That  the  providence  of  God  has  provided  a  refuge  in 
Africa,  is,  indeed,  a  great  and  noticeable  fact;  but  that ^ is 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  247 

no  reason  why  the  Church  of  Christ  should  throw  off  that 
responsibility  to  this  outcast  race  which  her  profession  de 
mands  of  her. 

To  fill  up  Liberia  with  an  ignorant,  inexperienced,  half- 
barbarized  race,  just  escaped  from  the  chains  of  slavery, 
would  be  only  to  prolong,  for  ages,  the  period  of  struggle 
and  conflict  which  attends  the  inception  of  new  enterprises. 
Let  the  Church  of  the  North  receive  these  poor  sufferers 
in  the  spirit  of  Christ;  receive  them  to  the  educating  ad 
vantages  of  Christian  republican  society  and  schools,  until 
they  have  attained  to  somewhat  of  a  moral  and  intellectual 
maturity,  and  then  assist  them  in  their  passage  to  those 
shores,  where  they  may  put  in  practice  the  lessons  they 
have  learned  in  America. 

There  is  a  body  of  men  at  the  North,  comparatively 
small,  who  have  been  doing  this;  and,  as  the  result,  this 
country  has  already  seen  examples  of  men,  formerly  slaves, 
who  have  rapidly  acquired  property,  reputation,  and  edu 
cation.  Talent  has  been  developed,  which,  considering  the 
circumstances,  is  certainly  remarkable;  and  for  moral  traits 
of  honesty,  kindness,  tenderness  of  feeling,  — for  heroic 
efforts  and  self-denials,  endured  for  the  ransom  of  brethren 
and  friends  yet  in  slavery,  —  they  have  been  remarkable, 
to  a  degree  that,  considering  the  influence  under  which 
they  were  born,  is  surprising. 

The  writer  has  lived,  for  many  years,  on  the  frontier- 
line  of  slave  States,  and  has  had  great  opportunities  of  ob 
servation  among  those  who  formerly  were  slaves.  They 
have  been  in  her  family  as  servants;  and,  in  default  of  any 
other  school  to  receive  them,  she  has,  in  many  cases,  had 
them  instructed  in  a  family  school,  with  her  own  children. 
She  has  also  the  testimony  of  missionaries,  among  the 
fugitives  in  Canada,  in  coincidence  with  her  own  experi 
ence  ;  and  her  deductions,  with  regard  to  the  capabilities  of 
the  race,  are  encouraging  in  the  highest  degree. 


248  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

The  first  desire  of  the  emancipated  slave,  generally,  is 
for  education.  There  is  nothing  that  they  are  not  willing 
to  give  or  do  to  have  their  children  instructed;  and,  so 
far  as  the  writer  has  observed  herself,  or  taken  the  testi 
mony  of  teachers  among  them,  they  are  remarkably  intelli 
gent  and  quick  to  learn.  The  results  of  schools,  founded 
for  them  by  benevolent  individuals  in  Cincinnati,  fully 
establish  this. 

The  author  gives  the  following  statement  of  facts,  on 
the  authority  of  Professor  C.  E.  Stowe,  then  of  Lane  Semi 
nary,  Ohio,  with  regard  to  emancipated  slaves,  now  resi 
dent  in  Cincinnati;  given  to  show  the  capability  of  the 
race,  even  without  any  very  particular  assistance  or  encour 
agement. 

The  initial  letters  alone  are  given.  They  are  all  resi 
dents  of  Cincinnati. 

"B .  Furniture-maker;  twenty  years  in  the  city; 

worth  ten  thousand  dollars,  all  his  own  earnings;  a  Bap 
tist. 

"C .  Full  black;  stolen  from  Africa;  sold  in  New 

Orleans;  been  free  fifteen  years;  paid  for  himself  six  hun 
dred  dollars;  a  farmer;  owns  several  farms  in  Indiana; 
Presbyterian;  probably  worth  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  all  earned  by  himself. 

"K .  Full  black;  dealer  in  real  estate;  worth 

thirty  thousand  dollars;  about  forty  years  old;  free  six 
years ;  paid  eighteen  hundred  dollars  for  his  family ;  mem 
ber  of  the  Baptist  Church;  received  a  legacy  from  his 
master,  which  he  has  taken  good  care  of,  and  increased. 

"G .  Full  black;  coal-dealer;  about  thirty  years 

old;  worth  eighteen  thousand  dollars;  paid  for  himself 
twice,  being  once  defrauded  to  the  amount  of  sixteen  hun 
dred  dollars ;  made  all  his  money  by  his  own  efforts,  — 
much  of  it  while  a  slave,  hiring  his  time  of  his  master,  and 
doing  business  for  himself;  a  fine  gentlemanly  fellow. 


LIFE   AMONG  THE   LOWLY  249 

"\V .  Three  fourths  black;  barber  and  waiter; 

from  Kentucky;  nineteen  years  free;  paid  for  self  and 
family  over  three  thousand  dollars;  worth  twenty  thou 
sand  dollars,  all  his  own  earnings;  deacon  in  the  Baptist 
Church. 

"G.  D .  Three  fourths  black;  white  washer;  from 

Kentucky;  nine  years  free;  paid  fifteen  hundred  dollars 
for  self  and  family ;  recently  died,  aged  sixty ;  worth  six 
thousand  dollars." 

Professor  Stowe  says,  "With  all  these,  except  G ,  I 

have  been,  for  some  years,  personally  acquainted,  and  make 
my  statements  from  my  own  knowledge." 

The  writer  well  remembers  an  aged  colored  woman,  who 
was  employed  as  a  washerwoman  in  her  father's  family. 
The  daughter  of  this  woman  married  a  slave.  She  was  a 
remarkably  active  and  capable  young  woman,  and  by  her 
industry  and  thrift,  and  the  most  persevering  self-denial, 
raised  nine  hundred  dollars  for  her  husband's  freedom, 
which  she  paid,  as  she  raised  it,  into  the  hands  of  his  mas 
ter.  She  yet  wanted  a  hundred  dollars  of  the  price,  when 
he  died.  She  never  recovered  any  of  the  money. 

These  are  but  few  facts,  among  multitudes  which  might 
be  adduced,  to  show  the  self-denial,  energy,  patience,  and 
honesty  which  the  slave  has  exhibited  in  a  state  of  free 
dom. 

And  let  it  be  remembered  that  these  individuals  have 
thus  bravely  succeeded  in  conquering  for  themselves  com 
parative  wealth  and  social  position,  in  the  face  of  every  dis 
advantage  and  discouragement.  The  colored  man,  by  the 
law  of  Ohio,  cannot  be  a  voter,  and,  till  within  a  few 
years,  was  even  denied  the  right  of  testimony  in  legal  suits 
with  the  white.  Nor  are  these  instances  confined  to  the 
State  of  Ohio.  In  all  States  of  the  Union  we  see  men,  but 
yesterday  burst  from  the  shackles  of  slavery,  who,  by  a 
self-educating  force,  which  cannot  be  too  much  admired, 


250  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN;  OR 

have  risen  to  highly  respectable  stations  in  society.  Pen- 
nington,  among  clergymen,  Douglas  and  Warde,  among 
editors,  are  well-known  instances.  If  this  persecuted 
race,  with  every  discouragement  and  disadvantage,  have 
done  thus  much,  how  much  more  they  might  do  if  the 
Christian  Church  would  act  towards  them  in  the  spirit  of 
her  Lord! 

This  is  an  age  of  the  world  when  nations  are  trembling 
and  convulsed.  A  mighty  influence  is  abroad,  surging  and 
heaving  the  world,  as  with  an  earthquake.  And  is 
America  safe  ?  Every  nation  that  carries  in  its  bosom  great 
and  unredressed  injustice  has  in  it  the  elements  of  this  last 
convulsion. 

For  what  is  this  mighty  influence  thus  rousing  in  all 
nations  and  languages  those  groanings  that  cannot  be  ut 
tered,  for  man's  freedom  and  equality? 

O  Church  of  Christ,  read  the  signs  of  the  times !  Is  not 
this  power  the  spirit  of  HIM  whose  kingdom  is  yet  to 
come,  and  whose  will  is  to  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in 
heaven  1 

But  who  may  abide  the  day  of  his  appearing?  "For 
that  day  shall  burn  as  an  oven :  and  he  shall  appear  as  a 
swift  witness  against  those  that  oppress  the  hireling  in  his 
wages,  the  widow  and  the  fatherless,  and  that  turn  aside 
the  stranger  in  his  right :  and  he  shall  break  in  pieces  the 
oppressor." 

Are  not  these  dread  words  for  a  nation  bearing  in  her 
bosom  so  mighty  an  injustice?  Christians!  every  time 
that  you  pray  that  the  kingdom  of  Christ  may  come,  can 
you  forget  that  prophecy  associates  in  dread  fellowship 
the  day  of  vengeance  with  the  year  of  his  redeemed  ? 

A  day  of  grace  is  yet  held  out  to  us.  Both  North  and 
South  have  been  guilty  before  God;  and  the  Christian 
Church  has  a  heavy  account  to  answer.  Not  by  com 
bining  together,  to  protect  injustice  and  cruelty,  and  mak- 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  LOWLY  251 

ing  a  common  capital  of  sin,  is  this  Union  to  be  saved, 
—  but  by  repentance,  justice,  and  mercy;  for,  not  surer  is 
the  eternal  law  by  which  the  millstone  sinks  in  the  ocean, 
than  that  stronger  law  by  which  injustice  and  cruelty  shall 
bring  on  nations  the  wrath  of  Almighty  God! 


A  KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

PRESENTING   THE    ORIGINAL    FACTS   AND    DOCU 
MENTS  UPON  WHICH  THE  STORY  IS  FOUNDED 

TOGETHER    WITH  CORROBORATIVE    STATEMENTS    VERIFY 
ING  THE   TRUTH  OF  THE  WORK 

BY  HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE 


PREFACE 

THE  work  which  the  writer  here  presents  to  the  public  is 
one  which  has  been  written  with  no  pleasure,  and  with 
much  pain. 

In  fictitious  writing,  it  is  possible  to  find  refuge  from  the 
hard  and  the  terrible  by  inventing  scenes  and  characters  of 
a  more  pleasing  nature.  No  such  resource  is  open  in  a  work 
of  fact ;  and  the  subject  of  this  work  is  one  on  which  the 
truth,  if  told  at  all,  must  needs  be  very  dreadful.  There  is 
no  bright  side  to  slavery,  as  such.  Those  scenes  which  are 
made  bright  by  the  generosity  and  kindness  of  masters  and 
mistresses  would  be  brighter  still  if  the  element  of  slavery 
were  withdrawn.  There  is  nothing  picturesque  or  beauti 
ful  in  the  family  attachment  of  old  servants,  which  is  not 
to  be  found  in  countries  where  these  servants  are  legally 
free.  The  tenants  on  an  English  estate  are  often  more  fond 
and  faithful  than  if  they  were  slaves.  Slavery,  therefore, 
is  not  the  element  which  forms  the  picturesque  and  beauti 
ful  of  Southern  life.  What  is  peculiar  to  slavery,  and  dis- 


254  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

tinguishes  it  from  free  servitude,  is  evil,  and  only  evil,  and 
that  continually. 

In  preparing  this  work,  it  has  grown  much  beyond  the 
author's  original  design.  It  has  so  far  overrun  its  limits 
that  she  has  been  obliged  to  omit  one  whole  department, 
—  that  of  the  characteristics  and  developments  of  the 
colored  race  in  various  countries  and  circumstances.  This 
is  more  properly  the  subject  for  a  volume  ;  and  she  hopes 
that  such  an  one  will  soon  be  prepared  by  a  friend  to  whom 
she  has  transferred  her  materials. 

The  author  desires  to  express  her  thanks  particularly  to 
those  legal  gentlemen  who  have  given  her  their  assistance 
and  support  in  the  legal  part  of  the  discussion.  She  also 
desires  to  thank  those,  at  the  North  and  at  the  South,  who 
have  kindly  furnished  materials  for  her  use.  Many  more 
have  been  supplied  than  could  possibly  be  used.  The  book 
is  actually  selected  out  of  a  mountain  of  materials. 

The  great  object  of  the  author  in  writing  has  been  to 
bring  this  subject  of  slavery,  as  a  moral  and  religious  ques 
tion,  before  the  minds  of  all  those  who  profess  to  be  follow 
ers  of  Christ,  in  this  country.  A  minute  history  has  been 
given  of  the  action  of  the  various  denominations  on  this 
subject. 

The  writer  has  aimed,  as  far  as  possible,  to  say  what  is 
true,  and  only  that,  without  regard  to  the  effect  which  it 
may  have  upon  any  person  or  party.  She  hopes  that  what 
she  has  said  will  be  examined  without  bitterness,  —  in  that 
serious  and  earnest  spirit  which  is  appropriate  for  the  ex 
amination  of  so  very  serious  a  subject.  It  would  be  vain 
for  her  to  indulge  the  hope  of  being  wholly  free  from  error. 
In  the  wide  field  which  she  has  been  called  to  go  over,  there 
is  a  possibility  of  many  mistakes.  She  can  only  say  that 
she  has  used  the  most  honest  and  earnest  endeavors  to  learn 
the  truth. 

The  book  is  commended  to  the  candid  attention  and  earn- 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  255 

est  prayers  of  all  true  Christians,  throughout  the  world. 
May  they  unite  their  prayers  that  Christendom  may  be 
delivered  from  so  great  an  evil  as  slavery ! 


PART    I 
CHAPTER  I 

At  different  times,  doubt  has  been  expressed  whether  the 
representations  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin'7  are  a  fair  repre 
sentation  of  slavery  as  it  at  present  exists.  This  work, 
more,  perhaps,  than  any  other  work  of  fiction  that  ever  was 
written,  has  been  a  collection  and  arrangement  of  real  inci 
dents,  —  of  actions  really  performed,  of  words  and  expres 
sions  really  uttered,  —  grouped  together  with  reference  to  a 
general  result,  in  the  same  manner  that  the  mosaic  artist 
groups  his  fragments  of  various  stones  into  one  general 
picture.  His  is  a  mosaic  of  gems,  —  this  is  a  mosaic  of 
facts. 

Artistically  considered,  it  might  not  be  best  to  point  out 
in  which  quarry  and  from  which  region  each  fragment  of 
the  mosaic  picture  had  its  origin  ;  and  it  is  equally  unartis- 
tic  to  disentangle  the  glittering  web  of  fiction,  and  show  out 
of  what  real  warp  and  woof  it  is  woven,  and  with  what  real 
coloring  dyed.  But  the  book  had  a  purpose  entirely  tran 
scending  the  artistic  one,  and  accordingly  encounters,  at  the 
hands  of  the  public,  demands  not  usually  made  on  fictitious 
works.  It  is  treated  as  a  reality,  —  sifted,  tried,  and 
tested  as  a  reality  ;  and  therefore  as  a  reality  it  may  be 
proper  that  it  should  be  defended. 

The  writer  acknowledges  that  the  book  is  a  very  inade 
quate  representation  of  slavery ;  and  it  is  so,  necessarily,  for 
this  reason,  —  that  slavery,  in  some  of  its  workings,  is  too 
dreadful  for  the  purposes  of  art.  A  work  which  should 
represent  it  strictly  as  it  is  would  be  a  work  which  could 


256  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN 

not  be  read.     And  all  works  which  ever  mean  to  give  pleas 
ure  must  draw  a  veil  somewhere,  or  they  cannot  succeed. 

The  author  will  now  proceed  along  the  course  of  the 
story,  from  the  first  page  onward,  and  develop,  as  far  as 
possible,  the  incidents  by  which  different  parts  were  sug- 


CHAPTER  II 

ME.    HALEY 

In  the  very  first  chapter  of  the  book  we  encounter  the 
character  of  the  negro-trader,  Mr.  Haley.  His  name  stands 
at  the  head  of  this  chapter  as  the  representative  of  all  the 
different  characters  introduced  in  the  work  which  exhibit  the 
trader,  the  kidnapper,  the  negro-catcher,  the  negro- whipper, 
and  all  the  other  inevitable  auxiliaries  and  indispensable 
appendages  of  what  is  often  called  the  "  divinely  instituted 
relation  "  of  slavery.  The  author's  first  personal  observa 
tion  of  this  class  of  beings  was  somewhat  as  follows. 

Several  years  ago,  while  one  morning  employed  in  the 
duties  of  the  nursery,  a  colored  woman  was  announced. 
She  was  ushered  into  the  nursery,  and  the  author  thought, 
on  first  survey,  that  a  more  surly,  unpromising  face  she  had 
never  seen.  The  woman  was  thoroughly  black,  thick-set, 
firmly  built,  and  with  strongly  marked  African  features. 
Those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  read  the  expressions  of 
the  African  face  know  what  a  peculiar  effect  is  produced  by 
a  lowering,  desponding  expression  upon  its  dark  features. 
It  is  like  the  shadow  of  a  thunder-cloud.  Unlike  her  race 
generally,  the  woman  did  not  smile  when  smiled  upon,  nor 
utter  any  pleasant  remark  in  reply  to  such  as  were  addressed 
to  her.  The  youngest  pet  of  the  nursery,  a  boy  about  three 
years  old,  walked  up,  and  laid  his  little  hand  on  her  knee, 
and  seemed  astonished  not  to  meet  the  quick  smile  which 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  2o7 

the  negro  almost  always  has  in  reserve  for  the  little  child. 
The  writer  thought  her  very  cross  and  disagreeable,  and, 
after  a  few  moments'  silence,  asked,  with  perhaps  a  little 
impatience,  "  Do  you  want  anything  of  me  to-day  ?  " 

"  Here  are  some  papers,"  said  the  woman,  pushing  them 
towards  her;  "  perhaps  you  would  read  them." 

The  first  paper  opened  was  a  letter  from  a  negro-trader  in 
Kentucky,  stating  concisely  that  he  had  waited  about  as 
long  as  he  could  for  her  child  ;  that  he  wanted  to  start  for 
the  South,  and  must  get  it  off  his  hands ;  that,  if  she  would 
send  him  two  hundred  dollars  before  the  end  of  the  week, 
she  should  have  it ;  if  not,  that  he  would  set  it  up  at  auc 
tion,  at  the  court-house  door,  on  Saturday.  He  added, 
also,  that  he  might  have  got  more  than  that  for  the  child, 
but  that  he  was  willing  to  let  her  have  it  cheap. 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  this  ?  "  said  the  author  to  the 
woman,  when  she  had  done  reading  the  letter. 

"  Dunno,  ma'am  ;  great  Christian,  I  know,  — member  of 
the  Methodist  church,  anyhow." 

The  expression  of  sullen  irony  with  which  this  was  said 
was  a  thing  to  be  remembered. 

"  And  how  old  is  this  child  ?  "  said  the  author  to  her. 

The  woman  looked  at  the  little  boy  who  had  been  stand 
ing  at  her  knee,  with  an  expressive  glance,  and  said,  "  She 
will  be  three  years  old  this  summer." 

On  further  inquiry  into  the  history  of  the  woman,  it  ap 
peared  that  she  had  been  set  free  by  the  will  of  her  owners ; 
that  the  child  was  legally  entitled  to  freedom,  but  had  been 
seized  on  by  the  heirs  of  the  estate.  She  was  poor  and 
friendless,  without  money  to  maintain  a  suit,  and  the  heirs, 
of  course,  threw  the  child  into  the  hands  of  the  trader. 
The  necessary  sum,  it  may  be  added,  was  all  raised  in  the 
small  neighborhood  which  then  surrounded  the  Lane  Theo 
logical  Seminary,  and  the  child  was  redeemed. 

If  the  public  would  like  a  specimen  of  the  correspondence 


258  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

which  passes  between  these  worthies,  who  are  the  principal 
reliance  of  the  community  for  supporting  and  extending  the 
institution  of  slavery,  the  following  may  be  interesting  as  a 
matter  of  literary  curiosity.  It  was  forwarded  by  Mr.  M. 
J.  Thomas,  of  Philadelphia,  to  the  "  National  Era,"  and 
stated  by  him  to  be  "  a  copy  taken  verbatim  from  the  ori 
ginal,  found  among  the  papers  of  the  person  to  whom  it 
was  addressed,  at  the  time  of  his  arrest  and  conviction,  for 
passing  a  variety  of  counterfeit  bank-notes." 

POOLSVILLE,  MONTGOMERY  Co.,  MD., 
March  24,  1831. 

DEAR  SIR  :  I  arrived  home  in  safety  with  Louisa,  John  hav 
ing  been  rescued  from  me,  out  of  a  two-story  window,  at  twelve 
o'clock  at  night.  I  offered  a  reward  of  fifty  dollars,  and  have 
him  here  safe  in  jail.  The  persons  who  took  him  brought  him 
to  Fredericktown  jail.  I  wish  you  to  write  to  no  person  in  this 
State  but  myself.  Kephart  and  myself  are  determined  to  go  the 
whole  hog  for  any  negro  you  can  find,  and  you  must  give  me 
the  earliest  information,  as  soon  as  you  do  find  any.  Enclosed 
you  will  receive  a  handbill,  and  I  can  make  a  good  bargain,  if 
you  can  find  them.  I  will  in  all  cases,  as  soon  as  a  negro  runs 
off,  send  you  a  handbill  immediately,  so  that  you  may  be  on  the 
look-out.  Please  tell  the  constable  to  go  on  with  the  sale  of 
John's  property ;  and,  when  the  money  is  made,  I  will  send  on 
an  order  to  you  for  it.  Please  attend  to  this  for  me  ;  likewise 
write  to  me,  and  inform  me  of  any  negro  you  think  has  run 
away,  —  no  matter  where  you  think  he  has  come  from,  nor 
how  far,  —  and  I  will  try  and  find  out  his  master.  Let  me 
know  where  you  think  he  is  from,  with  all  particular  marks, 
and  if  I  don't  find  his  master,  Joe  's  dead  I 

Write  to  me  about  the  crooked-fingered  negro,  and  let  me 
know  which  hand  and  which  finger,  color,  etc. ;  likewise  any 
mark  the  fellow  has  who  says  he  got  away  from  the  negro, 
buyer,  with  his  height  and  color,  or  any  other  you  think  has 
run  off. 

Give  my  respects  to  your  partner,  and  be  sure  you  write  to  no 
person  but  myself.  If  any  person  writes  to  you,  you  can  inform 
me  of  it,  and  I  will  try  to  buy  from  them.  I  think  we  can 
make  money,  if  we  do  business  together ;  for  I  have  plenty  of 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  259 

money,  if  you  can  find  plenty  of  negroes.  Let  me  know  if  Dan 
iel  is  still  where  he  was,  and  if  you  have  heard  anything  of 
Francis  since  I  left  you.  Accept  for  yourself  iny  regard  and 
esteem. 

REUBEN  B.  CARLLEY. 
JOHN  C.  SAUNDEKS. 

This  letter  strikingly  illustrates  the  character  of  these 
fellow-patriots  with  whom  the  great  men  of  our  land  have 
been  acting  in  conjunction,  in  carrying  out  the  beneficent 
provisions  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law. 

The  writer  has  drawn  in  this  work  only  one  class  of  the 
negro-traders.  There  are  all  varieties  of  them,  up  to  the 
great  wholesale  purchasers,  who  keep  their  large  trading- 
houses  ;  who  are  gentlemanly  in  manners  and  courteous  in 
address  ;  who,  in  many  respects,  often  perform  actions  of 
real  generosity  ;  who  consider  slavery  a  very  great  evil,  and 
hope  the  country  will  at  some  time  be  delivered  from  it, 
but  who  think  that  so  long  as  clergyman  and  layman,  saint 
and  sinner,  are  all  agreed  in  the  propriety  and  necessity  of 
slave-holding,  it  is  better  that  the  necessary  trade  in  the 
article  be  conducted  by  men  of  humanity  and  decency,  than 
by  swearing,  brutal  men,  of  the  Tom  Loker  school.  These 
men  are  exceedingly  sensitive  with  regard  to  what  they 
consider  the  injustice  of  the  world  in  excluding  them  from 
good  society,  simply  because  they  undertake  to  supply  a 
demand  in  the  community  which  the  bar,  the  press,  and  the 
pulpit,  all  pronounce  to  be  a  proper  one.  In  this  respect, 
society  certainly  imitates  the  unreasonableness  of  the  ancient 
Egyptians,  who  employed  a  certain  class  of  men  to  prepare 
dead  bodies  for  embalming,  but  flew  at  them  with  sticks 
and  stones  the  moment  the  operation  was  over,  on  account 
of  the  sacrilegious  liberty  which  they  had  taken.  If  there 
is  an  ill-used  class  of  men  in  the  world,  it  is  certainly  the 
slave-traders  ;  for,  if  there  is  no  harm  in  the  institution  of 


260  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

slavery,  —  if  it  is  a  divinely  appointed  and  honorable  one, 
like  civil  government  and  the  family  state,  and  like  other 
species  of  property  relation,  —  then  there  is  no  earthly  rea 
son  why  a  man  may  not  as  innocently  be  a  slave-trader  as 
any  other  kind  of  trader. 


CHAPTER  III 

MR.    AND    MBS.    SHELBY 

It  was  the  design  of  the  writer,  in  delineating  the  do 
mestic  arrangements  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shelby,  to  show  a 
picture  of  the  fairest  side  of  slave-life,  where  easy  indulgence 
and  good-natured  forbearance  are  tempered  by  just  discipline 
and  religious  instruction,  skillfully  and  judiciously  imparted. 

The  writer  did  not  come  to  her  task  without  reading 
much  upon  both  sides  of  the  question,  and  making  a  partic 
ular  effort  to  collect  all  the  most  favorable  representations 
of  slavery  which  she  could  obtain.  And,  as  the  reader  may 
have  a  curiosity  to  examine  some  of  the  documents,  the 
writer  will  present  them  quite  at  large.  There  is  no  kind 
of  danger  to  the  world  in  letting  the  very  fairest  side  of 
slavery  be  seen ;  in  fact,  the  horrors  and  barbarities  which 
are  necessarily  inherent  in  it  are  so  terrible  that  one  stands 
absolutely  in  need  of  all  the  comfort  which  can  be  gained 
from  incidents  like  the  subjoined,  to  save  them  from  utter 
despair  of  human  nature.  [Long  extracts  follow  from 
J.  K.  Paulding's  "  Letters  on  Slavery,"  and  Ingraham's 
"Travels  in  the  Southwest."] 

With  regard  to  the  character  of  Mrs.  Shelby  the  writer 
must  say  a  few  words.  While  traveling  in  Kentucky,  a 
few  years  since,  some  pious  ladies  expressed  to  her  the  same 
sentiments  with  regard  to  slavery  which  the  reader  has 
heard  expressed  by  Mrs.  Shelby. 

There  are  many  whose  natural  sense  of  justice  cannot  be 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  261 

made  to  tolerate  the  enormities  of  the  system,  even  though 
they  hear  it  defended  by  clergymen  from  the  pulpit,  and 
see  it  countenanced  by  all  that  is  most  honorable  in  rank 
and  wealth. 

A  pious  lady  said  to  the  author,  with  regard  to  instructing 
her  slaves,  "  I  am  ashamed  to  teach  them  what  is  right ;  I 
know  that  they  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  it  is  wrong  to 
hold  them  as  slaves,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  look  them  in 
the  face."  Pointing  to  an  intelligent  mulatto  woman  who 
passed  through  the  room,  she  continued,  "  Now,  there  '& 

B .  She  is  as  intelligent  and  capable  as  any  white 

woman  I  ever  knew,  and  as  well  able  to  have  her  liberty 
and  take  care  of  herself ;  and  she  knows  it  is  n't  right  to 
keep  her  as  we  do,  and  I  know  it  too ;  and  yet  I  cannot 
get  my  husband  to  think  as  I  do,  or  I  should  be  glad  to  set 
them  free." 

A  venerable  friend  of  the  writer,  a  lady  born  and  educated 
a  slave-holder,  used  to  the  writer  the  very  words  attributed 
to  Mrs.  Shelby  :  "  I  never  thought  it  was  right  to  hold 
slaves.  I  always  thought  it  was  wrong  when  I  was  a  girl, 
and  I  thought  so  still  more  when  I  came  to  join  the  church." 
An  incident  related  by  this  friend  of  her  examination  for 
the  church  shows  in  a  striking  manner  what  a  difference 
may  often  exist  between  theoretical  and  practical  benevo 
lence. 

A  certain  class  of  theologians  in  America  have  advocated 
the  doctrine  of  disinterested  benevolence  with  such  zeal  as 
to  make  it  an  imperative  article  of  belief  that  every  individ 
ual  ought  to  be  willing  to  endure  everlasting  misery,  if  by 
doing  so  they  could,  on  the  whole,  produce  a  greater  amount 
of  general  good  in  the  universe  ;  and  the  inquiry  was  some 
times  made  of  candidates  for  church-membership  whether 
they  could  bring  themselves  to  this  point,  as  a  test  of  their 
sincerity.  The  clergyman  who  was  to  examine  this  lady 
was  particularly  interested  in  these  speculations.  When  he 


262  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

came  to  inquire  of  her  with  regard  to  her  views  as  to  the 
obligations  of  Christianity,  she  informed  him  decidedly  that 
she  had  brought  her  mind  to  the  point  of  emancipating  all 
her  slaves,  of  whom  she  had  a  large  number.  The  clergy 
man  seemed  rather  to  consider  this  as  an  excess  of  zeal,  and 
recommended  that  she  should  take  time  to  reflect  upon  it. 
He  was,  however,  very  urgent  to  know  whether,  if  it  should 
appear  for  the  greatest  good  of  the  universe,  she  would  be 
willing  to  be  damned.  Entirely  unaccustomed  to  theological 
speculations,  the  good  woman  answered,  with  some  vehe 
mence,  that  "she  was  sure  she  was  not;  "  adding,  naturally 
enough,  that  if  that  had  been  her  purpose  she  need  not 
have  come  to  join  the  church.  The  good  lady,  however, 
was  admitted,  and  proved  her  devotion  to  the  general  good 
by  the  more  tangible  method  of  setting  all  her  slaves  at 
liberty,  and  carefully  watching  over  their  education  and 
interests  after  they  were  liberated. 

Mrs.  Shelby  is  a  fair  type  of  the  very  best  class  of  South 
ern  women  ;  and  while  the  evils  of  the  institution  are  felt 
and  deplored,  and  while  the  world  looks  with  just  indigna 
tion  on  the  national  support  and  patronage  which  is  given 
to  it,  and  on  the  men  who,  knowing  its  nature,  deliberately 
make  efforts  to  perpetuate  and  extend  it,  it  is  but  justice 
that  it  should  bear  in  mind  the  virtues  of  such  persons. 

Many  of  them,  surrounded  by  circumstances  over  which 
they  can  have  no  control,  perplexed  by  domestic  cares  of 
which  women  in  free  States  can  have  very  little  conception, 
loaded  down  by  duties  and  responsibilities  which  wear  upon 
the  very  springs  of  life,  still  go  on  bravely  and  patiently 
from  day  to  day,  doing  all  they  can  to  alleviate  what  they 
cannot  prevent,  and,  as  far  as  the  sphere  of  their  own  im 
mediate  power  extends,  rescuing  those  who  are  dependent 
upon  them  from  the  evils  of  the  system. 

We  read  of  Him  who  shall  at  last  come  to  judgment, 
that  "  His  fan  is  in  his  hand,  and  he  will  thoroughly  purge 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  263 

his  floor,  and  gather  his  wheat  into  the  garner."  Out  of 
the  great  abyss  of  national  sin  he  will  rescue  every  grain  of 
good  and  honest  purpose  and  intention.  His  eyes,  which 
are  as  a  flame  of  fire,  penetrate  at  once  those  intricate  mazes 
where  human  judgment  is  lost,  and  will  save  and  honor  at 
last  the  truly  good  and  sincere,  however  they  may  have 
been  involved  with  the  evil ;  and  such  souls  as  have  resisted 
the  greatest  temptations,  and  persisted  in  good  under  the 
most  perplexing  circumstances,  are  those  of  whom  he  has 
written,  "  And  they  shall  be  mine,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 
in  that  day  when  I  make  up  my  jewels ;  and  I  will  spare 
them  as  a  man  spareth  his  own  son  that  serveth  him." 

CHAPTER  IV 

GEORGE    HARRIS 


With  regard  to  the  incidents  of  George  Harris's  life, 
that  he  may  not  be  supposed  a  purely  exceptional  case,  we 
propose  to  offer  some  parallel  facts  from  the  lives  of  slaves 
of  our  personal  acquaintance. 

Lewis  Clark  is  an  acquaintance  of  the  writer.  Soon 
after  his  escape  from  slavery,  he  was  received  into  the 
family  of  a  sister-in-law  of  the  author,  and  there  educated. 
His  conduct  during  this  time  was  such  as  to  win  for  him 
uncommon  affection  and  respect,  and  the  author  has  fre 
quently  heard  him  spoken  of  in  the  highest  terms  by  all 
who  knew  him.  The  gentleman  in  whose  family  he  so 
long  resided  says  of  him,  in  a  recent  letter  to  the  writer, 
"I  would  trust  him,  as  the  saying  is,  with  untold  gold." 

Lewis  is  a  quadroon,  a  fine-looking  man,  with  European 
features,  hair  slightly  wavy,  and  with  an  intelligent,  agree 
able  expression  of  countenance. 

The  reader  is  now  desired  to  compare  the  following  inci- 


264  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

dents  of  his  life,  part  of  which  he  related  personally  to  the 
author,  with  the  incidents  of  the  life  of  George  Harris. 

His  mother  was  a  handsome  quadroon  woman,  the  daugh 
ter  of  her  master,  and  given  by  him  in  marriage  to  a  free 
white  man,  a  Scotchman,  with  the  express  understanding 
that  she  and  her  children  were  to  be  free.  This  engage 
ment,  if  made  sincerely  at  all,  was  never  complied  with. 
His  mother  had  nine  children,  and,  on  the  death  of  her 
husband,  came  back,  with  all  these  children,  as  slaves  in 
her  father's  house.  A  married  daughter  of  the  family,  who 
was  the  dread  of  the  whole  household  on  account  of  the 
violence  of  her  temper,  had  taken  from  the  family,  upon 
her  marriage,  a  young  girl.  By  the  violence  of  her  abuse 
she  soon  reduced  the  child  to  a  state  of  idiocy,  and  then 
came  imperiously  back  to  her  father's  establishment,  de 
claring  that  the  child  was  good  for  nothing,  and  that  she 
would  have  another ;  and,  as  poor  Lewis's  evil  star  would 
have  it,  fixed  her  eye  upon  him. 

To  avoid  one  of  her  terrible  outbreaks  of  temper,  the 
family  offered  up  this  boy  as  a  pacificatory  sacrifice.  The 
incident  is  thus  described  by  Lewis,  in  a  published  narra 
tive  :  — 

"  Every  boy  was  ordered  in,  to  pass  before  this  female  sorcer 
ess,  that  she  might  select  a  victim  for  her  unprovoked  malice, 
and  on  whom  to  pour  the  vials  of  her  wrath  for  years.  I  was 
that  unlucky  fellow.  Mr.  Campbell,  my  grandfather,  objected, 
because  it  would  divide  a  family,  and  ottered  her  Moses ;  .  .  . 
but  objections  and  claims  of  every  kind  were  swept  away  by  the 
wild  passion  and  shrill-toned  voice  of  Mrs.  B.  Me  she  would 
have,  and  none  else.  Mr.  Campbell  went  out  to  hunt,  and 
drive  away  bad  thoughts ;  the  old  lady  became  quiet,  for  she 
was  sure  none  of  her  blood  run  in  my  veins,  and,  if  there  was 
any  of  her  husband's  there,  it  was  no  fault  of  hers.  Slave- 
holding  women  are  always  revengeful  toward  the  children  of 
slaves  that  have  any  of  the  blood  of  their  husbands  in  them. 
I  was  too  young  —  only  seven  years  of  age — to  understand 
what  was  going  on.  But  my  poor  and  affectionate  mother 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  265 

understood  and  appreciated  it  all.  When  she  left  the  kitchen 
of  the  mansion-house,  where  she  was  employed  as  cook,  and 
came  home  to  her  own  little  cottage,  the  tear  of  anguish  was 
in  her  eye,  and  the  image  of  sorrow  upon  every  feature  of  her 
face.  She  knew  the  female  Nero  whose  rod  was  now  to  be 
over  me.  That  night  sleep  departed  from  her  eyes.  With  the 
youngest  child  clasped  firmly  to  her  bosom,  she  spent  the  night 
in  walking  the  floor,  coming  ever  and  anon  to  lift  up  the  clothes 
and  look  at  me  and  my  poor  brother,  who  lay  sleeping  together. 
Sleeping,  I  said.  Brother  slept,  but  not  I.  I  saw  my  mother 
when  she  first  came  to  me,  and  I  could  not  sleep.  The  vision 
of  that  night  —  its  deep,  ineffaceable  impression  —  is  now 
before  my  mind  with  all  the  distinctiveness  of  yesterday.  In 
the  morning  I  was  put  into  the  carriage  with  Mrs.  B.  and  her 
children,  and  my  weary  pilgrimage  of  suffering  was  fairly 
begun." 

Mrs.  Banton  is  a  character  that  can  only  exist  where  the 
laws  of  the  land  clothe  with  absolute  power  the  coarsest, 
most  brutal,  and  violent-tempered,  equally  with  the  most 
generous  and  humane. 

With  regard  to  the  intelligence  of  George,  and  his  teach 
ing  himself  to  read  and  write,  there  is  a  most  interesting 
and  affecting  parallel  to  it  in  the  "  Life  of  Frederick  Doug 
lass,"  —  a  book  which  can  be  recommended  to  any  one  who 
has  a  curiosity  to  trace  the  workings  of  an  intelligent  and 
active  mind  through  all  the  squalid  misery,  degradation,  and 
oppression  of  slavery. 

Let  the  reader  peruse  the  account  which  George  Harris 
gives  of  the  sale  of  his  mother  and  her  children,  and  then 
read  the  following  account  given  by  the  venerable  Josiah 
Henson,  now  pastor  of  the  missionary  settlement  at  Dawn, 
in  Canada. 

After  the  death  of  his  master,  he  says,  the  slaves  of  the 
plantation  were  all  put  up  at  auction  and  sold  to  the  highest 
bidder. 


266  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

"  My  brothers  and  sisters  were  bid  off  one  by  one,  while  my 
mother,  holding  my  hand,  looked  on  in  an  agony  of  grief,  the 
cause  of  which  I  but  ill  understood  at  first,  but  which  dawned 
on  my  mind  with  dreadful  clearness  as  the  sale  proceeded.  My 
mother  was  then  separated  from  me,  and  put  up  in  her  turn. 
She  was  bought  by  a  man  named  Isaac  R.,  residing  in  Mont 
gomery  County  [Maryland],  and  then  I  was  offered  to  the  as 
sembled  purchasers.  My  mother,  half  distracted  with  the  part 
ing  forever  from  all  her  children,  pushed  through  the  crowd, 
while  the  bidding  for  me  was  going  on,  to  the  spot  where 
R.  was  standing.  She  fell  at  his  feet,  and  clung  to  his  knees, 
entreating  him,  in  tones  that  a  mother  only  could  command, 
to  buy  her  baby  as  well  as  herself,  and  spare  to  her  one  of 
her  little  ones  at  least.  Will  it,  can  it  be  believed,  that  this 
man.  thus  appealed  to,  was  capable  not  merely  of  turning  a 
deaf  ear  to  her  supplication,  but  of  disengaging  himself  from 
her  with  such  violent  blows  and  kicks  as  to  reduce  her  to  the 
necessity  of  creeping  out  of  his  reach,  and  mingling  the  groan 
of  bodily  suffering  with  the  sob  of  a  breaking  heart  ?  " 

Now,  all  these  incidents  that  have  been  given  are  real 
incidents  of  slavery,  related  by  those  who  know  slavery  by 
the  best  of  all  tests  —  experience ;  and  they  are  given  by 
men  who  have  earned  a  character  in  freedom  which  makes 
their  word  as  good  as  the  word  of  any  man  living. 

Doubt  has  been  expressed  whether  such  a  thing  as  an 
advertisement  for  a  man,  "  dead  or  alive"  like  the  adver 
tisement  for  George  Harris,  was  ever  published  in  the  South 
ern  States.  The  scene  of  the  story  in  which  that  occurs  is 
supposed  to  be  laid  a  few  years  back,  at  the  time  when  the 
black  laws  of  Ohio  were  passed.  That  at  this  time  such 
advertisements  were  common  in  the  newspapers,  there  is 
abundant  evidence.  That  they  are  less  common  now  is  a 
matter  of  hope  and  gratulation. 

In  the  year  1839,  Mr.  Theodore  D.  Weld  made  a  system 
atic  attempt  to  collect  and  arrange  the  statistics  of  slavery. 
A  mass  of  facts  and  statistics  was  gathered,  which  were 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  267 

authenticated  with  the  most  unquestionable  accuracy.  Some 
of  the  "  one  thousand  witnesses,"  whom  he  brings  upon  the 
stand,  were  ministers,  lawyers,  merchants,  and  men  of  various 
other  callings,  who  were  either  natives  of  the  slave  States, 
or  had  been  residents  there  for  many  years  of  their  life. 
Many  of  these  were  slave-holders.  Others  of  the  witnesses 
were,  or  had  been,  slave-drivers,  or  officers  of  coasting-vessels 
engaged  in  the  slave-trade. 

Another  part  of  his  evidence  was  gathered  from  public 
speeches  in  Congress,  in  the  state  legislatures,  and  elsewhere. 
But  the  majority  of  it  was  taken  from  recent  newspapers. 

The  papers  from  which  these  facts  were  copied  were  pre 
served  and  put  on  file  in  a  public  place,  where  they  re 
mained  for  some  years,  for  the  information  of  the  curious. 
After  Mr.  Weld's  book  was  completed,  a  copy  of  it  was  sent, 
through  the  mail,  to  every  editor  from  whose  paper  such 
advertisements  had  been  taken,  and  to  every  individual  of 
whom  any  facts  had  been  narrated,  with  the  passages  which 
concerned  them  marked. 

It  is  quite  possible  that  this  may  have  had  some  influence 
in  rendering  such  advertisements  less  common.  Men  of 
sense  often  go  on  doing  a  thing  which  is  very  absurd,  or 
even  inhuman,  simply  because  it  has  always  been  done  be 
fore  them,  and  they  follow  general  custom,  without  much 
reflection.  When  their  attention,  however,  is  called  to  it 
by  a  stranger  who  sees  the  thing  from  another  point  of  view, 
they  become  immediately  sensible  of  the  impropriety  of  the 
practice,  and  discontinue  it.  The  reader  will,  however,  be 
pained  to  notice,  when  he  comes  to  the  legal  part  of  the 
book,  that  even  in  some  of  the  largest  cities  of  our  slave 
States  this  barbarity  had  not  been  entirely  discontinued  in 
the  year  1850. 

The  list  of  advertisements  in  Mr.  Weld's  book  is  here 
inserted,  not  to  weary  the  reader  with  its  painful  details, 
but  that,  by  running  his  eyes  over  the  dates  of  the  papers 


268  A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

quoted,  and  the  places  of  their  publication,  he  may  form  a 
fair  estimate  of  the  extent  to  which  this  atrocity  was  pub 
licly  practiced. 

The  "  Wilmington  (North  Carolina)  Advertiser  "  of  July  13, 
1838,  contains  the  following  advertisement :  — 

$100  will  be  paid  to  any  person  who  may  apprehend  and 
safely  confine  in  any  jail  in  this  State  a  certain  negro  man,  named 
ALFRED.  And  the  same  reward  will  be  paid,  if  satisfactory 
evidence  is  given  of  Ms  having  been  KILLED.  He  has  one  or 
more  scars  on  one  of  his  hands,  caused  by  his  having  been  shot. 

THE  CITIZENS  OF  ONSLOW. 

Richlands,  Onslow  Co.,  May  16,  1838. 

In  the  same  column  with  the  above,  and  directly  under  it,  is 
the  following :  — 

RAXAWAY,  my  negro  man  RICHARD.  A  reward  of  $25  will 
be  paid  for  his  apprehension,  DEAD  or  ALIVE.  Satisfactory 
proof  will  only  be  required  of  his  being  KILLED.  He  has  with 
him,  in  all  probability,  his  wife,  ELIZA,  who  ran  away  from  Col. 
Thompson,  now  a  resident  of  Alabama,  about  the  time  he  com 
menced  his  journey  to  that  State.  DURANT  H.  RHODES. 

In  the  "  Macon  (Georgia)  Telegraph,"  May  28,  is  the  follow 
ing  :  — 

About  the  1st  of  March  last  the  negro  man  RANSOM  left 
me  without  the  least  provocation  whatever ;  I  will  give  a  reward 
of  twenty  dollars  for  said  negro,  if  taken,  DEAD  OR  ALIVE,  — 
and  if  killed  in  any  attempt,  an  advance  of  five  dollars  will  be 
paid.  BRYANT  JOHNSOX. 

Crawford  Co.,  Georgia. 

See  the  "  Newbern  (N.  C.)  Spectator,"  January  5,  1838,  for 
the  following  :  — 

RAX  A  WAY  from  the  subscriber,  a  negro  man  named 
SAMPSON.  Fifty  dollars  reward  will  be  given  for  the  delivery 
of  him  to  me,  or  his  confinement  in  any  jail,  so  that  I  get  him ; 
and  should  he  resist  in  being  taken,  so  that  violence  is  necessary 
to  arrest  him,  I  will  not  hold  any  person  liable  for  damages 
should  the  slave  be  KILLED.  ENOCH  FOY. 

Jones  Co.,  N.  C. 

From  the   "  Charleston  (S.  C.)  Courier,"  February  20, 1836  : 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  269 

$300  REWARD.  —  Ranaway  from  the  subscriber,  in  No 
vember  last,  his  two  negro  men,  named  Billy  and  Pompey. 

Billy  is  25  years  old,  and  is  known  as  the  patroon  of  my  boat 
for  many  years ;  in  all  probability  he  may  resist ;  in  that  event 
50  dollars  will  be  paid  for  his  HEAD. 


CHAPTER  V 

ELIZA 

The  writer  stated  in  her  book  that  Eliza  was  a  portrait 
drawn  from  life.  The  incident  which  brought  the  original 
to  her  notice  may  be  simply  narrated. 

While  the  writer  was  traveling  in  Kentucky,  many  years 
ago,  she  attended  church  in  a  small  country  town.  While 
there,  her  attention  was  called  to  a  beautiful  quadroon  girl, 
who  sat  in  one  of  the  slips  of  the  church,  and  appeared  to 
have  charge  of  some  young  children.  The  description  of 
Eliza  may  suffice  for  a  description  of  her.  When  the  author 
returned  from  church,  she  inquired  about  the  girl,  and  was 
told  that  she  was  as  good  and  amiable  as  she  was  beautiful ; 
that  she  was  a  pious  girl,  and  a  member  of  the  church  ;  and 
finally,  that  she  was  owned  by  Mr.  So-and-so.  The  idea 
that  this  girl  was  a  slave  struck  a  chill  to  her  heart,  and  she 
said,  earnestly,  "  Oh,  I  hope  they  treat  her  kindly.'7 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  was  the  reply ;  "  they  think  as  much  of 
her  as  of  their  own  children." 

"  I  hope  they  will  never  sell  her,"  said  a  person  in  the 
company. 

"  Certainly  they  will  not ;  a  Southern  gentleman,  not  long 
ago,  offered  her  master  a  thousand  dollars  for  her ;  but  he 
told  him  that  she  was  too  good  to  be  his  wife,  and  he  cer 
tainly  should  not  have  her  for  a  mistress." 

This  is  all  that  the  writer  knows  of  that  girl. 

With  regard  to  the  incident  of  Eliza's  crossing  the  river 
on  the  ice,  —  as  the  possibility  of  the  thing  has  been  dis- 


270  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN 

puted,  —  the  writer  gives  the  following  circumstance  in  con 
firmation. 

Last  spring,  while  the  author  was  in  New  York,  a  Pres 
byterian  clergyman,  of  Ohio,  came  to  her,  and  said,  "  I  un 
derstand  they  dispute  that  fact  about  the  woman's  crossing 
the  river.  Now,  I  know  all  about  that,  for  I  got  the  story 
from  the  very  man  that  helped  her  up  the  bank.  I  know 
it  is  true,  for  she  is  now  living  in  Canada." 

It  has  been  objected  that  the  representation  of  the  scene 
in  which  the  plan  for  kidnapping  Eliza  is  concocted  by  Haley, 
Marks,  and  Loker,  at  the  tavern,  is  a  gross  caricature  on  the 
state  of  things  in  Ohio. 

What  knowledge  the  author  has  had  of  the  facilities  which 
some  justices  of  the  peace,  under  the  old  fugitive  law  of 
Ohio,  were  in  the  habit  of  giving  to  kidnapping,  may  be 
inferred  by  comparing  the  statement  in  her  book  with  some 
in  her  personal  knowledge. 

"  Ye  see,"  said  Marks  to  Haley,  stirring  his  punch  as  he  did 
so,  "ye  see,  we  has  justices  convenient  at  all  p'ints  alongshore, 
that  does  up  any  little  jobs  in  our  line  quite  reasonable.  Tom, 
he  does  the  knockin'  down,  and  that  ar;  and  I  come  in  all 
dressed  up,  —  shining  boots,  —  everything  first  chop,  —  when 
the  swearin'  's  to  be  done.  You  oughter  see,  now,"  said  Marks, 
in  a  glow  of  professional  pride,  "  how  I  can  tone  it  off.  One 
day  I  'm  Mr.  Twickem,  from  New  Orleans ;  'nother  day,  I  'm 
just  come  from  my  plantation  on  Pearl  River,  where  I  works 
seven  hundred  niggers ;  then,  again,  I  come  out  a  distant  rela 
tion  of  Henry  Clay,  or  some  old  cock  in  Kentuck.  Talents  is 
different,  you  know.  Now,  Tom  's  a  roarer  when  there  's  any 
thumping  or  fighting  to  be  done ;  but  at  lying  he  ain't  good,  Tom 
ain't,  —  ye  see  it  don't  come  natural  to  him  ;  but,  Lord,  if  thar  's 
a  feller  in  the  country  that  can  swear  to  anything  and  every 
thing,  and  put  in  all  the  circumstances  and  flourishes  with  a 
longer  face,  and  carry  't  through  better  'n  I  can,  why,  I  'd  like  to 
see  him,  that 's  all !  I  b'lieve  my  heart,  I  could  get  along  and 
snake  through,  even  if  justices  were  more  particular  than  they  is. 
Sometimes  I  rather  wish  they  was  more  particular  ;  't  would  be 
a  heap  more  relishin'  if  they  was,  —  more  fun,  yer  know." 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  271 

In  the  year  1839,  the  writer  received  into  her  family,  as 
a  servant,  a  girl  from  Kentucky.  She  had  been  the  slave 
of  one  of  the  lowest  and  most  brutal  families,  with  whom 
she  had  been  brought  up,  in  a  log-cabin,  in  a  state  of  half- 
barbarism.  In  proceeding  to  give  her  religious  instruction, 
the  author  heard,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  an  inquiry 
which  she  had  not  supposed  possible  to  be  made  in  America : 
"  Who  is  Jesus  Christ,  now,  anyhow  ?  " 

When  the  author  told  her  the  history  of  the  love  and  life 
and  death  of  Christ,  the  girl  seemed  wholly  overcome  ;  tears 
streamed  down  her  cheeks  ;  and  she  exclaimed  piteously, 
"  Why  did  n't  nobody  never  tell  me  this  before  ?  " 

"But,"  said  the  writer  to  her,  "haven't  you  ever  seen 
the  Bible  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  missus  a-readin'  on  't  sometimes  ;  but, 
law  sakes  !  she  's  just  a-readin'  on't  'cause  she  could;  don't 
s'pose  it  did  her  no  good,  no  way." 

She  said  she  had  been  to  one  or  two  camp-meetings  in 
her  life,  but  "  did  n't  notice  very  particular." 

At  all  events,  the  story  certainly  made  great  impression 
on  her,  and  had  such  an  effect  in  improving  her  conduct 
that  the  writer  had  great  hopes  of  her. 

On  inquiring  into  her  history,  it  was  discovered  that,  by 
the  laws  of  Ohio,  she  was  legally  entitled  to  her  freedom, 
from  the  fact  of  her  having  been  brought  into  the  State, 
and  left  there  temporarily,  by  the  consent  of  her  mistress. 
These  facts  being  properly  authenticated  before  the  proper 
authorities,  papers  attesting  her  freedom  were  drawn  up, 
and  it  was  now  supposed  that  all  danger  of  pursuit  was  over. 
After  she  had  remained  in  the  family  for  some  months,  word 
was  sent,  from  various  sources,  to  Professor  Stowe,  that  the 
girl's  young  master  was  over,  looking  for  her,  and  that,  if 
care  were  not  taken,  she  would  be  conveyed  back  into 
slavery. 

Professor  Stowe  called  on  the  magistrate  who  had  authen- 


272  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

ticated  her  papers,  and  inquired  whether  they  were  not  suf 
ficient  to  protect  her.  The  reply  was,  "  Certainly  they  are, 
in  law,  if  she  could  have  a  fair  hearing  ;  but  they  will  come 
to  your  house  in  the  night,  with  an  officer  and  a  warrant ; 

they  will  take  her  before  Justice  D ,  and  swear  to  her. 

He  7s  the  man  that  does  all  this  kind  of  business,  and  he  '11 
deliver  her  up,  and  there  '11  be  an  end  to  it." 

Mr.  Stowe  then  inquired  what  could  be  done  ;  and  was 
recommended  to  carry  her  to  some  place  of  security  till 
the  inquiry  for  her  was  over.  Accordingly,  that  night,  a 
brother  of  the  author,  with  Professor  Stowe,  performed  for 
the  fugitive  that  office  which  the  senator  is  represented  as 
performing  for  Eliza.  They  drove  about  ten  miles  on  a 
solitary  road,  crossed  the  creek  at  a  very  dangerous  fording, 
and  presented  themselves,  at  midnight,  at  the  house  of  John 
Van  Zandt,  a  noble-minded  Kentuckian,  who  had  performed 
the  good  deed  which  the  author,  in  her  story,  ascribes  to 
Van  Tromp. 

After  some  rapping  at  the  door,  the  worthy  owner  of 
the  mansion  appeared,  candle  in  hand,  as  has  been  nar 
rated. 

"  Are  you  the  man  that  would  save  a  poor  colored  girl 
from  kidnappers  ?  "  was  the  first  question. 

"  Guess  I  am,"  was  the  prompt  response  ;  "  where  is 
she  ?  " 

"  Why,  she  's  here." 

"  But  how  did  you  come  ?  " 

"  I  crossed  the  creek." 

"Why,  the  Lord  help  you!"  said  he;  "I  shouldn't 
dare  cross  it  myself  in  the  night.  A  man  and  his  wife, 
and  five  children,  were  drowned  there,  a  little  while  ago." 

The  reader  may  be  interested  to  know  that  the  poor  girl 
never  was  retaken ;  that  she  married  well  in  Cincinnati,  is 
a  very  respectable  woman,  and  the  mother  of  a  large  family 
of  children. 


A  KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  273 

CHAPTER  VI 

UNCLE    TOM 

The  character  of  Uncle  Tom  has  been  objected  to  as 
improbable ;  and  yet  the  writer  has  received  more  confir 
mations  of  that  character,  and  from  a  greater  variety  of 
sources,  than  of  any  other  in  the  book. 

Many  people  have  said  to  her,  "  I  knew  an  Uncle  Tom 
in  such  and  such  a  Southern  State."  All  the  histories  of 
this  kind  which  have  thus  been  related  to  her  would  of 
themselves,  if  collected,  make  a  small  volume.  The  author 
will  relate  a  few  of  them. 

While  visiting  in  an  obscure  town  in  Maine,  in  the  family 
of  a  friend,  the  conversation  happened  to  turn  upon  this 
subject,  and  the  gentleman  with  whose  family  she  was  stay 
ing  related  the  following.  He  said  that,  when  on  a  visit  to 
his  brother  in  New  Orleans  some  years  before,  he  found  in 
his  possession  a  most  valuable  negro  man,  of  such  remark 
able  probity  and  honesty  that  his  brother  literally  trusted 
him  with  all  he  had.  He  had  frequently  seen  him  take 
out  a  handful  of  bills,  without  looking  at  them,  and  hand 
them  to  this  servant,  bidding  him  go  and  provide  what  was 
necessary  for  the  family,  and  bring  him  the  change.  He 
remonstrated  with  his  brother  on  this  imprudence  ;  but  the 
latter  replied  that  he  had  had  such  proof  of  this  servant's 
impregnable  conscientiousness  that  he  felt  it  safe  to  trust 
him  to  any  extent. 

The  history  of  the  servant  was  this.  He  had  belonged 
to  a  man  in  Baltimore,  who,  having  a  general  prejudice 
against  all  the  religious  exercises  of  slaves,  did  all  that  he 
could  to  prevent  his  having  any  time  for  devotional  duties, 
and  strictly  forbade  him  to  read  the  Bible  and  pray,  either 
by  himself,  or  with  the  other  servants ;  and  because,  like  a 
certain  man  of  old,  named  Daniel,  he  constantly  disobeyed 


274  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

this  unchristian  edict,  his  master  inflicted  upon  him  that 
punishment  which  a  master  always  has  in  his  power  to 
inflict, — he  sold  him  into  perpetual  exile  from  his  wife  and 
children,  down  to  New  Orleans. 

The  gentleman  who  gave  the  writer  this  information  says 
that,  although  not  himself  a  religious  man  at  the  time,  he 
was  so  struck  with  the  man's  piety  that  he  said  to  his 
brother,  "I  hope  you  will  never  do  anything  to  deprive 
this  man  of  his  religious  privileges,  for  I  think  a  judgment 
will  come  upon  you  if  you  do."  To  this  his  brother  replied 
that  he  should  be  very  foolish  to  do  it,  since  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  the  man's  religion  was  the  root  of  his  ex 
traordinary  excellences. 

A  last  instance  parallel  with  that  of  Uncle  Tom  is  to  be 
found  in  the  published  memoirs  of  the  venerable  Josiah 
Henson,  now,  as  we  have  said,  a  clergyman  in  Canada.  He 
was  "  raised  "  in  the  State  of  Maryland.  His  first  recollec 
tions  were  of  seeing  his  father  mutilated  and  covered  with 
blood,  suffering  the  penalty  of  the  law  for  the  crime  of 
raising  his  hand  against  a  white  man,  —  that  white  man  be 
ing  the  overseer,  who  had  attempted  a  brutal  assault  upon 
his  mother.  This  punishment  made  his  father  surly  and 
dangerous,  and  he  was  subsequently  sold  South,  and  thus 
parted  forever  from  his  wife  and  children.  Henson  grew 
up  in  a  state  of  heathenism,  without  any  religious  instruc 
tion,  till,  in  a  camp-meeting,  he  first  heard  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  was  electrified  by  the  great  and  thrilling  news  that  He 
had  tasted  death  for  every  man,  the  bond  as  well  as  the 
free.  This  story  produced  an  immediate  conversion,  such  as 
we  read  of  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  where  the  Ethiopian 
eunuch,  from  one  interview,  hearing  the  story  of  the  cross, 
at  once  believes  and  is  baptized.  Henson  forthwith  not 
only  became  a  Christian,  but  began  to  declare  the  news  to 
those  about  him  ;  and,  being  a  man  of  great  natural  force 


A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  275 

of  mind  and  strength  of  character,  his  earnest  endeavors  to 
enlighten  his  fellow  heathen  were  so  successful  that  he  was 
gradually  led  to  assume  the  station  of  a  negro  preacher  ; 
and  though  he  could  not  read  a  word  of  the  Bible  or 
hymn-book,  his  labors  in  this  line  were  much  prospered. 
He  became  immediately  a  very  valuable  slave  to  his  master, 
and  was  intrusted  by  the  latter  with  the  oversight  of  his 
whole  estate,  which  he  managed  with  great  judgment  and 
prudence.  His  master  appears  to  have  been  a  very  ordinary 
man  in  every  respect,  —  to  have  been  entirely  incapable  of 
estimating  him  in  any  other  light  than  as  exceedingly  valu 
able  property,  and  to  have  had  no  other  feeling  excited  by 
his  extraordinary  faithfulness  than  the  desire  to  make  the 
most  of  him.  When  his  affairs  became  embarrassed,  he 
formed  the  design  of  removing  all  his  negroes  into  Kentucky, 
and  intrusted  the  operation  entirely  to  his  overseer.  Hen- 
son  was  to  take  them  alone,  without  any  other  attendant, 
from  Maryland  to  Kentucky,  a  distance  of  some  thousands 
of  miles,  giving  only  his  promise  as  a  Christian  that  he 
would  faithfully  perform  this  undertaking.  On  the  way 
thither  they  passed  through  a  portion  of  Ohio,  and  there 
Henson  was  informed  that  he  could  now  secure  his  own  free 
dom  and  that  of  all  his  fellows,  and  he  was  strongly  urged 
to  do  it.  He  was  exceedingly  tempted  and  tried,  but  his 
Christian  principle  was  invulnerable.  No  inducements  could 
lead  him  to  feel  that  it  was  right  for  a  Christian  to  violate 
a  pledge  solemnly  given,  and  his  influence  over  the  whole 
band  was  so  great  that  he  took  them  all  with  him  into  Ken 
tucky.  Those  casuists  among  us  who  lately  seem  to  think 
and  teach  that  it  is  right  for  us  to  violate  the  plain  com 
mands  of  God  whenever  some  great  national  good  can  be 
secured  by  it  would  do  well  to  contemplate  the  inflexible 
principle  of  this  poor  slave,  who,  without  being  able  to  read 
a  letter  of  the  Bible,  was  yet  enabled  to  perform  this  most 
sublime  act  of  self-renunciation  in  obedience  to  its  commands. 


276  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

Subsequently  to  this,  his  master,  in  a  relenting  moment, 
was  induced  by  a  friend  to  sell  him  his  freedom  for  four 
hundred  dollars ;  but  when  the  excitement  of  the  impor 
tunity  had  passed  off,  he  regretted  that  he  had  suffered  so 
valuable  a  piece  of  property  to  leave  his  hands  for  so 
slight  a  remuneration.  By  an  unworthy  artifice,  therefore, 
he  got  possession  of  his  servant's  free  papers,  and  con 
demned  him  still  to  hopeless  slavery. 

The  vision  attributed  to  Uncle  Tom  introduces  quite  a 
curious  chapter  of  psychology  with  regard  to  the  negro  race, 
and  indicates  a  peculiarity  which  goes  far  to  show  how  very 
different  they  are  from  the  white  race.  They  are  possessed 
of  a  nervous  organization  peculiarly  susceptible  and  impres 
sible.  Their  sensations  and  impressions  are  very  vivid,  and 
their  fancy  and  imagination  lively.  In  this  respect  the  race 
has  an  oriental  character,  and  betrays  its  tropical  origin. 
Like  the  Hebrews  of  old  and  the  oriental  nations  of  the 
present,  they  give  vent  to  their  emotions  with  the  utmost 
vivacity  of  expression,  and  their  whole  bodily  system  sym 
pathizes  with  the  movements  of  their  minds.  When  in 
distress,  they  actually  lift  up  their  voices  to  weep,  and  "  cry 
with  an  exceeding  bitter  cry."  When  alarmed,  they  are 
often  paralyzed,  and  rendered  entirely  helpless.  Their  reli 
gious  exercises  are  all  colored  by  this  sensitive  and  exceed 
ingly  vivacious  temperament.  Like  oriental  nations,  they 
incline  much  to  outward  expressions,  violent  gesticulations, 
and  agitating  movements  of  the  body.  Sometimes,  in  their 
religious  meetings,  they  will  spring  from  the  floor  many 
times  in  succession,  with  a  violence  and  rapidity  which  is 
perfectly  astonishing.  They  will  laugh,  weep,  embrace  each 
other  convulsively,  and  sometimes  become  entirely  paralyzed 
and  cataleptic.  A  clergyman  from  the  North  once  remon 
strated  with  a  Southern  clergyman  for  permitting  such  ex 
travagances  among  his  flock.  The  reply  of  the  Southern 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  277 

minister  was,  in  effect,  this  :  "  Sir,  I  am  satisfied  that  the 
races  are  so  essentially  different  that  they  cannot  be  regulated 
by  the  same  rules.  I  at  first  felt  as  you  do  ;  and,  though 
I  saw  that  genuine  conversions  did  take  place,  with  all  this 
outward  manifestation,  I  was  still  so  much  annoyed  by  it  as 
to  forbid  it  among  my  negroes,  till  I  was  satisfied  that  the 
repression  of  it  was  a  serious  hindrance  to  real  religious 
feeling  ;  and  then  I  became  certain  that  all  men  cannot  be 
regulated  in  their  religious  exercises  by  one  model.  I  am 
assured  that  conversions  produced  with  these  accessories  are 
quite  as  apt  to  be  genuine,  and  to  be  as  influential  over  the 
heart  and  life,  as  those  produced  in  any  other  way."  The 
fact  is  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  —  cool,  logical,  and  prac 
tical  —  have  yet  to  learn  the  doctrine  of  toleration  for  the 
peculiarities  of  other  races ;  and  perhaps  it  was  with  a  fore 
sight  of  their  peculiar  character,  and  dominant  position  in 
the  earth,  that  God  gave  the  Bible  to  them  in  the  fervent 
language  and  with  the  glowing  imagery  of  the  more  suscep 
tible  and  passionate  oriental  races. 


CHAPTER   VII 

MISS    OPHELIA 

Miss  OPHELIA  stands  as  the  representative  of  a  numer 
ous  class  of  the  very  best  of  Northern  people  ;  to  whom, 
perhaps,  if  our  Lord  should  again  address  his  churches  a 
letter,  as  He  did  those  of  old  time,  He  would  use  the  same 
words  as  then  :  "  I  know  thy  works,  and  thy  labor,  and 
thy  patience,  and  how  thou  canst  not  bear  them  which  are 
evil ;  and  thou  hast  tried  them  which  are  apostles  and  are 
not,  and  hast  found  them  liars  :  and  hast  borne,  and  hast 
patience,  and  for  my  name's  sake  hast  labored  and  hast  not 
fainted.  Nevertheless,  I  have  somewhat  against  thee,  be 
cause  thou  hast  left  thy  first  love." 


278  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

There  are  in  this  class  of  people  activity,  zeal,  unflinch 
ing  conscientiousness,  clear  intellectual  discriminations  be 
tween  truth  and  error,  and  great  logical  and  doctrinal  cor 
rectness  ;  but  there  is  a  want  of  that  spirit  of  love,  without 
which,  in  the  eye  of  Christ,  the  most  perfect  character  is  as 
deficient  as  a  wax  flower  —*•  wanting  in  life  and  perfume. 

Yet  this  blessed  principle  is  not  dead  in  their  hearts,  but 
only  sleepeth  ;  and  so  great  is  the  real  and  genuine  good 
ness  that  when  the  true  magnet  of  divine  love  is  applied, 
they  always  answer  to  its  touch. 

So  when  the  gentle  Eva,  who  is  an  impersonation  in 
childish  form  of  the  love  of  Christ,  solves  at  once,  by  a 
blessed  instinct,  the  problem  which  Ophelia  has  long  been 
unable  to  solve  by  dint  of  utmost  hammering  and  vehe 
ment  effort,  she  at  once,  with  a  good  and  honest  heart, 
perceives  and  acknowledges  her  mistake,  and  is  willing  to 
learn  even  of  a  little  child. 

Miss  Ophelia,  again,  represents  one  great  sin,  of  which, 
unconsciously,  American  Christians  have  allowed  themselves 
to  be  guilty.  Unconsciously  it  must  be,  for  nowhere  is 
conscience  so  predominant  as  among  this  class,  and  nowhere 
is  there  a  more  honest  strife  to  bring  every  thought  into 
captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ. 

One  of  the  first  and  most  declared  objects  of  the  gospel 
has  been  to  break  down  all  those  irrational  barriers  and 
prejudices  which  separate  the  human  brotherhood  into  di 
verse  and  contending  clans.  Paul  says,  "  In  Christ  Jesus 
there  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  barbarian,  Scythian,  bond 
nor  free."  The  Jews  at  that  time  were  separated  from  the 
Gentiles  by  an  insuperable  wall  of  prejudice.  They  could 
not  eat  and  drink  together  nor  pray  together.  But  the 
apostles  most  earnestly  labored  to  show  them  the  sin  of  this 
prejudice.  St.  Paul  says  to  the  Ephesians,  speaking  of 
this  former  division,  "  He  is  our  peace,  who  hath  made 
both  one,  and  hath  broken  down  the  middle  wall  of  parti 
tion  between  us." 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOAl's    CABIN  279 

It  is  very  easy  to  see  that  although  slavery  has  been 
abolished  in  the  New  England  States,  it  has  left  behind  it 
the  most  baneful  feature  of  the  system,  —  that  which  makes 
American  worse  than  Roman  slavery,  —  the  prejudice  of 
caste  and  color.  In  the  New  England  States  the  negro 
has  been  treated  as  belonging  to  an  inferior  race  of  beings ; 
—  forced  to  sit  apart  by  himself  in  the  place  of  worship ; 
his  children  excluded  from  the  schools ;  himself  excluded 
from  the  railroad-car  and  the  omnibus,  and  the  peculiarities 
of  his  race  made  the  subject  of  bitter  contempt  and  ridicule. 

Not  long  since  the  writer  called  upon  a  benevolent  lady, 
and  during  the  course  of  the  call  the  conversation  turned 
upon  the  incidents  of  a  fire  which  had  occurred  the  night 
before  in  the  neighborhood.  A  deserted  house  had  been 
burned  to  the  ground.  The  lady  said  it  was  supposed  it 
had  been  set  on  fire.  "  What  could  be  any  one's  motive 
for  setting  it  on  fire  ?  "  said  the  writer. 

"Well,"  replied  the  lady,  "it  was  supposed  that  a  col 
ored  family  was  about  to  move  into  it,  and  it  was  thought 
that  the  neighborhood  wouldn't  consent  .to  that.  So  it 
was  supposed  that  was  the  reason." 

This  was  said  with  an  air  of  innocence  and  much  un 
concern. 

The  writer  inquired,  "  Was  it  a  family  of  bad  char 
acter  ?  " 

"  No,  not  particularly,  that  I  know  of,"  said  the  lady  ; 
"  but  then  they  are  negroes,  you  know." 

Now,  this  lady  is  a  very  pious  lady.  She  probably 
would  deny  herself  to  send  the  gospel  to  the  heathen,  and 
if  she  had  ever  thought  of  considering  this  family  a 
heathen  family,  would  have  felt  the  deepest  interest  in 
their  welfare ;  because  on  the  subject  of  duty  to  the 
heathen  she  had  been  frequently  instructed  from  the  pulpit, 
and  had  all  her  religious  and  conscientious  sensibilities 


280  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

awake.  Probably  she  had  never  listened  from  the  pulpit 
to  a  sermon  which  should  exhibit  the  great  truth,  that 
"  in  Christ  Jesus  there  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  barba 
rian,  Scythian,  bond  nor  free." 

It  is,  however,  but  just  to  our  Northern  Christians  to 
say  that  this  sin  has  been  committed  ignorantly  and  in  un 
belief,  and  that  within  a  few  years  signs  of  a  much  better 
spirit  have  begun  to  manifest  themselves.  In  some  places, 
recently,  the  doors  of  school-houses  have  been  thrown  open 
to  the  children,  and  many  a  good  Miss  Ophelia  has  opened 
her  eyes  in  astonishment  to  find  that,  while  she  has  been 
devouring  the  "  Missionary  Herald/'  and  going  without 
butter  on  her  bread  and  sugar  in  her  tea  to  send  the  gospel 
to  the  Sandwich  Islands,  there  is  a  very  thriving  colony 
of  heathen  in  her  own  neighborhood  at  home  ;  and,  true  to 
her  own  good  and  honest  heart,  she  has  resolved,  not  to 
give  up  her  prayers  and  efforts  for  the  heathen  abroad,  but 
to  add  thereunto  labors  for  the  heathen  at  home. 


CHAPTER  YIH 

MAEIE   ST.    CLARE 

Marie  St.  Clare  is  the  type  of  a  class  of  women  not  pecul 
iar  to  any  latitude,  nor  any  condition  of  society.  She  may 
be  found  in  England  or  in  America.  In  the  northern  free 
States  we  have  many  Marie  St.  Clares,  more  or  less  fully 
developed. 

When  found  in  a  northern  latitude,  she  is  forever  in 
trouble  about  her  domestic  relations.  Her  servants  never 
do  anything  right.  Strange  to  tell,  they  are  not  perfect, 
and  she  thinks  it  a  very  great  shame.  She  is  fully  con 
vinced  that  she  ought  to  have  every  moral  and  Christian 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN  281 

virtue  in  her  kitchen  for  a  little  less  than  the  ordinary 
wages  ;  and  when  her  cook  leaves  her,  because  she  finds  she 
can  get  better  wages  arid  less  work  in  a  neighboring  family, 
she  thinks  it  shockingly  selfish,  unprincipled  conduct.  She 
is  of  opinion  that  servants  ought  to  be  perfectly  disinter 
ested  ;  that  they  ought  to  be  willing  to  take  up  with  the 
worst  rooms  in  the  house,  with  very  moderate  wages,  and 
very  indifferent  food,  when  they  can  get  much  better  else 
where,  purely  for  the  sake  of  pleasing  her.  She  likes  to 
get  hold  of  foreign  servants,  who  have  not  yet  learned  our 
ways,  who  are  used  to  working  for  low  wages,  and  who  will 
be  satisfied  with  almost  anything  ;  but  she  is  often  heard  to 
lament  that  they  soon  get  spoiled,  and  want  as  many  privi 
leges  as  anybody  else,  —  which  is  perfectly  shocking.  Marie 
often  wishes  that  she  could  be  a  slave-holder,  or  could  live 
somewhere  where  the  lower  class  are  kept  down,  and  made 
to  know  their  place.  She  is  always  hunting  for  cheap 
seamstresses,  and  will  tell  you,  in  an  undertone,  that  she 
has  discovered  a  woman  who  will  make  linen  shirts  beauti 
fully,  stitch  the  collars  and  wristbands  twice,  all  for  thirty- 
seven  cents,  when  many  seamstresses  get  a  dollar  for  it ; 
says  she  does  it  because  she  's  poor,  and  has  no  friends  ; 
thinks  you  had  better  be  careful  in  your  conversation,  and 
not  let  her  know  what  prices  are,  or  else  she  will  get  spoiled, 
and  go  to  raising  her  price,  —  these  sewing-women  are  so 
selfish.  When  Marie  St.  Clare  has  the  misfortune  to  live 
in  a  free  State,  there  is  no  end  to  her  troubles.  Her  cook 
is  always  going  off  for  better  wages  and  more  comfortable 
quarters  ;  her  chambermaid,  strangely  enough,  won't  agree 
to  be  chambermaid  and  seamstress  both  for  half  wages,  and 
so  she  deserts.  Marie's  kitchen-cabinet,  therefore,  is  always 
in  a  state  of  revolution  ;  and  she  often  declares,  with  affect 
ing  earnestness,  that  servants  are  the  torment  of  her  life. 
If  her  husband  endeavor  to  remonstrate,  or  suggest  another 
mode  of  treatment,  he  is  a  hard-hearted,  unfeeling  man  ; 


282  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

"he  doesn't  love  her,  and  she  always  knew  he  didn't;  " 
and  so  he  is  disposed  of. 

But  when  Marie  comes  under  a  system  of  laws  which 
gives  her  absolute  control  over  her  dependants,  —  which 
enables  her  to  separate  them,  at  her  pleasure,  from  their 
dearest  family  connections,  or  to  inflict  upon  them  the  most 
disgraceful  and  violent  punishments,  without  even  the  re 
straint  which  seeing  the  execution  might  possibly  produce, 

—  then  it  is  that  the  character  arrives  at  full    maturity. 
Human  nature  is  no  worse  at  the  South  than  at  the  North ; 
but  law  at  the  South  distinctly  provides  for  and  protects  the 
worst  abuses  to  which  that  nature  is  liable. 

With  regard  to  those  degrading  punishments  to  which 
females  are  subjected,  by  being  sent  to  professional  whip- 
pers,  or  by  having  such  functionaries  sent  for  to  the  house, 

—  as  John  Caphart  testifies  that  he  has  often  been,  in  Bal 
timore,  —  what  can  be  said  of  their  influence  both  on  the 
superior  and  on  the  inferior  class  ?     It  is  very  painful  in 
deed  to  contemplate  this  subject.      The  mind  instinctively 
shrinks  from  it ;   but  still  it  is    a    very    serious    question 
whether  it  be  not  our  duty  to  encounter  this  pain,  that  our 
sympathies    may    be  quickened  into  more  active  exercise. 
For  this  reason,  we  give  here  the  testimony  of  a  gentleman 
whose  accuracy  will  not  be  doubted,  and  who  subjected  him 
self  to  the  pain  of  being  an  eye-witness  to  a  scene  of  this 
kind  in  the  calaboose  in  New  Orleans.      As  this  reader  will 
perceive  from  the  account,  it  was  a  scene  of  such  every-day 
occurrence  as  not  to  excite  any  particular  remark,  or  any 
expression  of  sympathy  from  those  of  the  same  condition 
and  color  with  the  sufferer. 

When  our  missionaries  first  went  to  India,  it  was  esteemed 
a  duty  among  Christian  nations  to  make  themselves  ac 
quainted  with  the  cruelties  and  atrocities  of  idolatrous  wor 
ship,  as  a  means  of  quickening  our  zeal  to  send  them  the 
gospel. 


A   KEY  JO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  283 

If  it  be  said  that  we  in  the  free  States  have  no  such  in 
terest  in  slavery,  as  we  do  not  support  it,  and  have  no 
power  to  prevent  it,  it  is  replied  that  slavery  does  exist 
in  the  District  of  Columbia,  which  belongs  to  the  whole 
United  States ;  and  that  the  free  States  are,  before  God, 
guilty  of  the  crime  of  continuing  it  there,  unless  they  will 
honestly  do  what  in  them  lies  for  its  extermination. 

The  subjoined  account  was  written  by  the  benevolent  Dr. 
Howe,  whose  labors  in  behalf  of  the  blind  have  rendered 
his  name  dear  to  humanity,  and  was  sent  in  a  letter  to  the 
Hon.  Charles  Sumner.  If  any  one  think  it  too  painful  to 
be  perused,  let  him  ask  himself  if  God  will  hold  those 
guiltless  who  suffer  a  system  to  continue,  the  details  of  which 
they  cannot  even  read.  That  this  describes  a  common  scene 
in  the  calaboose,  we  shall  by  and  by  produce  other  witnesses 
to  show. 

"  I  have  passed  ten  days  in  New  Orleans,  not  unprofitably, 
I  trust,  in  examining  the  public  institutions,  —  the  schools, 
asylums,  hospitals,  prisons,  etc.  With  the  exception  of  the 
first,  there  is  little  hope  of  amelioration.  I  know  not  how 
much  merit  there  may  be  in  their  system ;  but  I  do  know  that, 
in  the  administration  of  the  penal  code,  there  are  abominations 
which  should  bring  down  the  fate  of  Sodom  upon  the  city.  If 
Howard  or  Mrs.  Fry  ever  discovered  so  ill-administered  a  den 
of  thieves  as  the  New  Orleans  prison,  they  never  described  it. 
In  the  negroes'  apartment  I  saw  much  which  made  me  blush 
that  I  was  a  white  man,  and  which,  for  a  moment,  stirred  up 
an  evil  spirit  in  my  animal  nature.  Entering  a  large  paved 
court-yard,  around  which  ran  galleries  filled  with  slaves  of  all 
ages,  sexes,  and  colors,  I  heard  the  snap  of  a  whip,  every  stroke 
of  which  souuded  like  the  sharp  crack  of  a  pistol.  I  turned  my 
head,  and  beheld  a  sight  which  absolutely  chilled  me  to  the 
marrow  of  my  bones,  and  gave  me,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life, 
the  sensation  of  my  hair  stiffening  at  the  roots.  There  lay  a 
black  girl  flat  upon  her  face,  on  a  board,  her  two  thumbs  tied 
and  fastened  to  one  end,  her  feet  tied  and  drawn  tightly  to  the 
other  end,  while  a  strap  passed  over  the  small  of  her  back  and, 
fastened  around  the  board,  compressed  her  closely  to  it.  Below 


284  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

the  strap  she  was  entirely  naked.  By  her  side,  and  six  feet  off, 
stood  a  huge  negro,  with  a  long  whip,  which  he  applied  with 
dreadful  power  and  wonderful  precision.  Every  stroke  brought 
away  a  strip  of  skin,  which  clung  to  the  lash,  or  fell  quivering 
on  the  pavement,  while  the  blood  followed  after  it.  The  poor 
creature  writhed  and  shrieked,  and,  in  a  voice  which  showed 
alike  her  fear  of  death  and  her  dreadful  agony,  screamed  to  her 
master,  who  stood  at  her  head,  <  Oh,  spare  my  life !  don't  cut 
my  soul  out !  '  But  still  fell  the  horrid  lash ;  still  strip  after 
strip  peeled  off  from  the  skin ;  gash  after  gash  was  cut  in  her 
living  flesh,  until  it  became  a  livid  and  bloody  mass  of  raw  and 
quivering  muscle.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  I  refrained 
from  springing  upon  the  torturer,  and  arresting  his  lash ;  but, 
alas !  what  could  I  do,  but  turn  aside  to  hide  my  tears  for  the 
sufferer,  and  my  blushes  for  humanity  ?  This  was  in  a  public 
and  regularly  organized  prison  ;  the  punishment  was  one  recog 
nized  and  authorized  by  the  law.  But  think  you  the  poor 
wretch  had  committed  a  heinous  offence,  and  had  been  con 
victed  thereof,  and  sentenced  to  the  lash  ?  Not  at  all.  She 
was  brought  by  her  master  to  be  whipped  by  the  common  exe 
cutioner,  without  trial,  judge  or  jury,  just  at  his  beck  or  nod 
for  some  real  or  supposed  offense,  or  to  gratify  his  own  whim 
or  malice.  And  he  may  bring  her  day  after  day,  without  cause 
assigned,  and  inflict  any  number  of  lashes  he  pleases,  short  of 
twenty-five,  provided  only  he  pays  the  fee.  Or,  if  he  choose,  he 
may  have  a  private  whipping-board  on  his  own  premises,  and 
brutalize  himself  there.  A  shocking  part  of  this  horrid  pun 
ishment  was  its  publicity,  as  I  have  said ;  it  was  in  a  court-yard 
surrounded  by  galleries,  which  were  filled  with  colored  persons 
of  all  sexes,  —  runaway  slaves,  committed  for  some  crime,  or 
slaves  up  for  sale.  You  would  naturally  suppose  they  crowded 
forward,  and  gazed,  horror-stricken,  at  the  brutal  spectacle 
below  ;  but  they  did  not ;  many  of  them  hardly  noticed  it,  and 
many  were  entirely  indifferent  to  it.  They  went  on  in  their 
childish  pursuits,  and  some  were  laughing  outright  in  the  dis 
tant  parts  of  the  galleries  ;  so  low  can  man,  created  in  God's 
image,  be  sunk  in  brutality." 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  285 

CHAPTER  IX 

ST.     CLARE 

The  twin  brothers,  Alfred  and  Augustine  St.  Clare, 
represent  two  classes  of  men  which  are  to  be  found  in  all 
countries.  They  are  the  radically  aristocratic  and  democratic 
men.  The  aristocrat  by  position  is  not  always  the  aristocrat 
by  nature,  and  vice  versa ;  but  the  aristocrat  by  nature, 
whether  he  be  in  a  higher  or  lower  position  in  society,  is 
he  who,  though  he  may  be  just,  generous,  and  humane,  to 
those  whom  he  considers  his  equals,  is  entirely  insensible 
to  the  wants  and  sufferings  and  common  humanity  of 
those  whom  he  considers  the  lower  orders.  The  sufferings 
of  a  countess  would  make  him  weep  ;  the  sufferings  of  a 
seamstress  are  quite  another  matter. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  democrat  is  often  found  in  the 
highest  position  of  life.  To  this  man,  superiority  to  his 
brother  is  a  thing  which  he  can  never  boldly  and  nakedly 
assert  without  a  secret  pain.  In  the  lowest  and  humblest 
walk  of  life,  he  acknowledges  the  sacredness  of  a  common 
humanity  ;  and  however  degraded  by  the  opinions  and  in 
stitutions  of  society  any  particular  class  may  be,  there  is  an 
instinctive  feeling  in  his  soul  which  teaches  him  that  they 
are  men  of  like  passions  with  himself.  Such  men  have  a 
penetration  which  at  once  sees  through  all  the  false  shows 
of  outward  custom  which  make  one  man  so  dissimilar  to 
another,  to  those  great  generic  capabilities,  sorrows,  wants, 
and  weaknesses,  wherein  all  men  and  women  are  alike  ;  and 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  making  them  realize  that  one 
order  of  human  beings  have  any  prescriptive  right  over 
another  order,  or  that  the  tears  and  sufferings  of  one  are 
not  just  as  good  as  those  of  another  order. 

That    such    men  are  to  be  found  at  the  South  in   the 


286  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

relation  of  slave-masters,  that  when  so  found  they  cannot 
and  will  not  be  deluded  by  any  of  the  shams  and  sophistry 
wherewith  slavery  has  been  defended,  that  they  look  upon 
it  as  a  relic  of  a  barbarous  age,  and  utterly  scorn  and  con 
temn  all  its  apologists,  we  can  abundantly  show.  Many 
of  the  most  illustrious  Southern  men  of  the  Revolution 
were  of  this  class,  and  many  men  of  distinguished  position 
of  later  day  have  entertained  the  same  sentiments. 

Witness  the  following  letter  of  Patrick  Henry,  the  senti 
ments  of  which  are  so  much  an  echo  of  those  of  St.  Clare 
that  the  reader  might  suppose  one  to  be  a  copy  of  the  other  : 

LETTER    OF    PATRICK    HENRY. 

HANOVER,  January  18th,  1773. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  take  this  opportunity  to  acknowledge  the 
receipt  of  Anthony  Benezet's  book  against  the  slave-trade  ;  I 
thank  you  for  it.  Is  it  not  a  little  surprising  that  the  professors 
of  Christianity,  whose  chief  excellence  consists  in  softening  the 
human  heart,  in  cherishing  and  improving  its  finer  feelings, 
should  encourage  a  practice  so  totally  repugnant  to  the  first 
impressions  of  right  and  wrong  ?  What  adds  to  the  wonder  is, 
that  this  abominable  practice  has  been  introduced  in  the  most 
enlightened  ages.  Times  that  seem  to  have  pretensions  to  boast 
of  high  improvements  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  refined 
morality,  have  brought  into  general  use,  and  guarded  by  many 
laws,  a  species  of  violence  and  tyranny  which  our  more 
rude  and  barbarous,  but  more  honest,  ancestors  detested.  Is  it 
not  amazing  that  at  a  time  when  the  rights  of  humanity  are 
defined  and  understood  with  precision,  in  a  country  above  all 
others  fond  of  liberty,  —  that  in  such  an  age  and  in  such  a 
country  we  find  men  professing  a  religion  the  most  mild, 
humane,  gentle,  and  generous,  adopting  such  a  principle,  as 
repugnant  to  humanity  as  it  is  inconsistent  with  the  Bible,  and 
destructive  to  liberty  ?  Every  thinking,  honest  man  rejects  it 
in  speculation.  How  free  in  practice  from  conscientious 
motives ! 

Would  any  one  believe  that  I  am  master  of  slaves  of  my  own 
purchase  ?  I  am  drawn  along  by  the  general  inconvenience  of 
living  here  without  them.  I  will  not,  I  cannot,  justify  it.  How- 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  287 

ever  culpable  my  conduct,  I  will  so  far  pay  my  devoir  to  virtue 
as  to  own  the  excellence  and  rectitude  of  her  precepts,  and 
lament  my  want  of  conformity  to  them. 

I  believe  a  time  will  come  when  an  opportunity  will  be 
offered  to  abolish  this  lamentable  evil.  Everything  we  can  do 
is  to  improve  it,  if  it  happens  in  our  day  ;  if  not,  let  us  transmit 
to  our  descendants,  together  with  our  slaves,  a  pity  for  their 
unhappy  lot,  and  an  abhorrence  for  slavery.  If  we  cannot 
reduce  this  wished-for  reformation  to  practice,  let  us  treat  the 
unhappy  victims  with  lenity.  It  is  the  furthest  advance  we 
can  make  towards  justice.  It  is  a  debt  we  owe  to  the  purity  of 
our  religion,  to  show  that  it  is  at  variance  with  that  law  which 
warrants  slavery. 

I  know  not  when  to  stop.  I  could  say  many  things  on  the 
subject,  a  serious  view  of  which  gives  a  gloomy  prospect  to  future 
times  ! 


The  celebrated  John  Randolph,  of  Roanoke,  said  in  Con 
gress,  on  one  occasion  :  — 

"  Sir,  I  envy  neither  the  heart  nor  the  head  of  that  man  from 
the  North  who  rises  here  to  defend  slavery  on  principle." 

The  following  lines  from  the  will  of  this  eccentric  man 
show  that  this  clear  sense  of  justice,  which  is  a  gift  of  supe 
rior  natures,  at  last  produced  the  same  appropriate  fruits  in 
practice  :  — 

"  /  give  to  my  slaves  their  freedom,  to  which  my  conscience  tells 
me  they  are  justly  entitled.  It  has  a  long  time  been  a  matter  of 
the  deepest  regret  to  me,  that  the  circumstances  under  which 
I  inherited  them,  and  the  obstacles  thrown  in  the  way  by  the 
laws  of  the  land,  have  prevented  my  emancipating  them  in 
my  lifetime,  which  it  is  my  full  intention  to  do  in  case  I  can 
accomplish  it." 

The  character  of  St.  Clare  was  drawn  by  the  writer  with 
enthusiasm  and  with  hope.  Will  this  hope  never  be 
realized  ?  Will  those  men  at  the  South,  to  whom  God 
has  given  the  power  to  perceive  and  the  heart  to  feel  the 
unutterable  wrong  and  injustice  of  slavery,  always  remain 


288  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN 

silent  and  inactive  ?  What  nobler  ambition  to  a  Southern 
man  than  to  deliver  his  country  from  this  disgrace  ?  From 
the  South  must  the  deliverer  arise.  How  long  shall  he 
delay  ?  There  is  a  crown  brighter  than  any  earthly  ambi 
tion  has  ever  worn,  —  there  is  a  laurel  which  will  not  fade  : 
it  is  prepared  and  waiting  for  that  hero  who  shall  rise  up 
for  liberty  at  the  South,  and  free  that  noble  and  beautiful 
country  from  the  burden  and  disgrace  of  slavery. 

CHAPTER  X 

LEGBEE 

• 

As  St.  Clare  and  the  Shelbys  are  the  representatives  of 
one  class  of  masters,  so  Legree  is  the  representative  of  an 
other  ;  and,  as  all  good  masters  are  not  as  enlightened,  as 
generous,  and  as  considerate  as  St.  Clare  and  Mr.  Shelby, 
or  as  careful  and  successful  in  religious  training  as  Mrs. 
Shelby,  so  all  bad  masters  do  not  unite  the  personal  ugli 
ness,  the  coarseness  and  profaneness,  of  Legree. 

Legree  is  introduced  not  for  the  sake  of  vilifying  mas 
ters  as  a  class,  but  for  the  sake  of  bringing  to  the  minds  of 
honorable  Southern  men,  who  are  masters,  a  very  important 
feature  in  the  system  of  slavery,  upon  which,  perhaps,  they 
have  never  reflected.  It  is  this  :  that  no  Southern  law  re 
quires  any  test  of  CHARACTER  from  the  man  to  whom  the 
absolute  power  of  master  is  granted. 

Are  there  such  men  as  Legree  ?  Let  any  one  go  into  the 
low  districts  and  dens  of  New  York,  let  them  go  into  some 
of  the  lanes  and  alleys  of  London,  and  will  they  not  there 
see  many  Legrees  ?  Nay,  take  the  purest  district  of  New 
England,  and  let  people  cast  about  in  their  memory  and  see 
if  there  have  not  been  men  there,  hard,  coarse,  unfeeling, 
brutal,  who,  if  they  had  possessed  the  absolute  power  of 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  289 

Legree,  would  have  used  it  in  the  same  way  ;  and  that 
there  should  be  Legrees  in  the  Southern  States  is  only  say 
ing  that  human  nature  is  the  same  there  that  it  is  every 
where.  The  only  difference  is  this,  —  that  in  free  States 
Legree  is  chained  and  restrained  by  law ;  in  the  slave 
States,  the  law  makes  him  an  absolute,  irresponsible  despot. 

With  regard  to  that  atrocious  system  of  working  up  the 
human  being  in  a  given  time,  on  which  Legree  is  repre 
sented  as  conducting  his  plantation,  there  is  unfortunately 
too  much  reason  to  know  that  it  has  been  practiced  and  is 
still  practiced. 

A  friend  of  the  writer  —  the  Eev.  Mr.  Barrows,  now 
officiating  as  teacher  of  Hebrew  in  Andover  Theological 
Seminary  —  stated  the  following,  in  conversation  with  her  : 
that,  while  at  New  Orleans,  some  time  since,  he  was  in 
vited  by  a  planter  to  visit  his  estate,  as  he  considered  it  to 
be  a  model  one.  He  found  good  dwellings  for  the  slaves, 
abundant  provision  distributed  to  them,  all  cruel  punish 
ments  superseded  by  rational  and  reasonable  ones,  and  half 
a  day  every  week  allowed  to  the  negroes  to  cultivate  their 
own  grounds.  Provision  was  also  made  for  their  moral  and 
religious  instruction.  Mr.  Barrows  then  asked  the  planter, 
"  Do  you  consider  your  estate  a  fair  specimen  ?  "  The 
gentleman  replied,  "  There  are  two  systems  pursued  among 
us.  One  is,  to  make  all  we  can  out  of  a  negro  in  a  few 
years,  and  then  supply  his  place  with  another  ;  and  the 
other  is,  to  treat  him  as  I  do.  My  neighbor  on  the  next 
plantation  pursues  the  opposite  system.  His  boys  are  hard 
worked  and  scantily  fed  ;  and  I  have  had  them  come  to  me, 
and  get  down  on  their  knees  to  beg  me  to  buy  them." 

Mr.  Barrows  says  he  subsequently  passed  by  this  planta 
tion,  and  that  the  woe-struck,  dejected  aspect  of  its  labor 
ers  fully  confirmed  the  account.  He  also  says  that  the 


290  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

gentleman  who  managed  so  benevolently  told  him,  "I  do 
not  make  much  money  out  of  my  slaves." 

The  peculiar  mode  of  labor  on  the  sugar  plantation  is 
such  that  the  master,  at  a  certain  season  of  the  year,  must 
overwork  his  slaves,  unless  he  is  willing  to  incur  great 
pecuniary  loss.  In  that  very  gracefully  written  apology  for 
slavery,  Professor  Ingraham's  "  Travels  in  the  Southwest," 
the  following  description  of  sugar-making  is  given.  We 
quote  from  him  in  preference  to  any  one  else,  because  he 
speaks  as  an  apologist,  and  describes  the  thing  with  the 
grace  of  a  Mr.  Skimpole. 

"  When  the  grinding  has  once  commenced,  there  is  no  cessa 
tion  of  labor  till  it  is  completed.  From  beginning  to  end  a  busy 
and  cheerful  scene  continues.  The  negroes, 

'  Whose  sore  task 
Does  not  divide  the  Sunday  from  the  week,' 

work  from  eighteen  to  twenty  hours, 

'  And  make  the  night  joint  laborer  with  the  day  ; ' 

though,  to  lighten  the  burden  as  much  as  possible,  the  gang  is 
divided  into  two  watches,  one  taking  the  first  and  the  other  the 
last  part  of  the  night;  and,  notwithstanding  this  continued 
labor,  the  negroes  improve  in  appearance,  and  appear  fat  and 
flourishing.  They  drink  freely  of  cane-juice,  and  the  sickly 
among  them  revive,  and  become  robust  and  healthy. 

"  After  the  grinding  is  finished,  the  negroes  have  several  holi 
days,  when  they  are  quite  at  liberty  to  dance  and  frolic  as  much 
as  they  please;  and  the  cane-song  —  which  is  improvised  by 
one  of  the  gang,  the  rest  all  joining  in  a  prolonged  and  unin 
telligible  chorus  —  now  breaks,  night  and  day,  upon  the  ear, 
in  notes  '  most  musical,  most  melancholy.'  " 

The  above  is  inserted  as  a  specimen  of  the  facility  with 
which  the  most  horrible  facts  may  be  told  in  the  genteelest 
phrase.  In  a  work  entitled  "  Travels  in  Louisiana  in  1802  " 
is  the  following  extract  (see  Weld's  "  Slavery  as  It  Is," 
p.  134),  from  which  it  appears  that  this  cheerful  process  of 
laboring  night  and  day  lasts  three  months  ! 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  291 

Now,  let  any  one  learn  the  private  history  of  seven  hun 
dred  blacks,  —  men  and  women,  —  compelled  to  work  day 
and  night,  under  the  lash  of  a  driver,  for  a  period  of  three 
months. 

Possibly,  if  the  gentleman  who  wrote  this  account  were 
employed,  with  his  wife  and  family,  in  this  "  cheerful 
scene  "  of  labor,  —  if  he  saw  the  woman  that  he  loved,  the 
daughter  who  was  dear  to  him  as  his  own  soul,  forced  on  in 
the  general  gang,  in  this  toil  which 

"  Does  not  divide  the  Sunday  from  the  week, 
And  makes  the  night  joint  laborer  with  the  day," 

—  possibly,  if  he  saw  all  this,  he  might  have  another  opin 
ion  of  its  cheerfulness  ;  and  it  might  be  an  eminently  salu 
tary  thing  if  every  apologist  for  slavery  were  to  enjoy  some 
such  privilege  for  a  season,  particularly  as  Mr.  Ingraham  is 
careful  to  tell  us  that  its  effect  upon  the  general  health  is 
so  excellent  that  the  negroes  improve  in  appearance,  and 
appear  fat  and  flourishing,  and  that  the  sickly  among  them 
revive,  and  become  robust  and  healthy.  One  would  think 
it  a  surprising  fact,  if  working  slaves  night  and  day,  and 
giving  them  cane-juice  to  drink,  really  produces  such  salu 
tary  results,  that  the  practice  should  not  be  continued 
the  whole  year  round ;  though,  perhaps,  in  this  case,  the 
negroes  would  become  so  fat  as  to  be  unable  to  labor.  Pos 
sibly,  it  is  because  this  healthful  process  is  not  longer 
continued  that  the  agricultural  societies  of  Louisiana  are 
obliged  to  set  down  an  annual  loss  of  slaves  on  sugar  plan 
tations  to  the  amount  of  two  and  a  half  per  cent.  This 
ought  to  be  looked  into  by  philanthropists.  Perhaps  work 
ing  them  all  night  for  six  months,  instead  of  three,  might 
remedy  the  evil. 

But  this  periodical  pressure  is  not  confined  to  the  making 
of  sugar.  There  is  also  a  press  in  the  cotton  season,  as  any 
one  can  observe  by  reading  the  Southern  newspapers.  At 


292  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN 

a  certain  season  of  the  year,  the  whole  interest  of  the  com 
munity  is  engaged  in  gathering  in  the  cotton  crop. 

As  a  specimen,  of  recent  date,  of  this  kind  of  affair,  we 
subjoin  the  following  from  the  "Fairfield  Herald,"  Wins- 
boro',  S.  C.,  November  4,  1852. 

COTTON-PICKING. 

We  find  in  many  of  our  Southern  and  Western  exchanges 
notices  of  the  amount  of  cotton  picked  by  hands,  and  the  quan 
tity  by  each  hand ;  and,  as  we  have  received  a  similar  account, 
which  we  have  not  seen  excelled,  so  far  as  regards  the  quantity 
picked  by  one  hand,  we  with  pleasure  furnish  the  statement, 
writh  the  remark  that  it  is  from  a  citizen  of  this  district,  over 
seeing  for  Maj.  II.  W.  Parr. 

"  BROAD  RIVER,  Oct.  12, 1852. 

"  MESSRS.  EDITORS,  —  By  way  of  contributing  something  to 
your  variety  (provided  it  meets  your  approbation),  I  send  you 
the  return  of  a  day's  picking  of  cotton,  not  by  picked  hands, 
but  the  fag-end  of  a  set  of  hands  on  one  plantation,  the  able- 
bodied  hands  having  been  drawn  out  for  other  purposes.  Now 
for  the  result  of  a  day's  picking,  from  sun-up  until  sun-down, 
by  twenty-two  hands,  —  women,  boys,  and  two  men, — four 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  of  clean  picked  cot 
ton,  from  the  stalk. 

"  The  highest,  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  by  several ; 
the  lowest,  one  hundred  and  fifteen  pounds.  One  of  the  num 
ber  has  picked  in  the  last  seven  and  a  half  days  (Sunday  ex- 
cepted),  eleven  hours  each  day,  nineteen  hundred  pounds  clean 
cotton.  When  any  of  my  agricultural  friends  beat  this,  in  the 
same  time,  and  during  sunshine,  I  will  try  again. 

JAMES  STEWARD." 

It  seems  that  this  agriculturist  professes  to  have  accom 
plished  all  these  extraordinary  results  with  what  he  very 
elegantly  terms  the  "  fag-end  "  of  a  set  of  hands ;  and,  the 
more  to  exalt  his  glory  in  the  matter,  he  distinctly  informs 
the  public  that  there  were  no  "  able-bodied "  hands  em 
ployed  ;  that  this  whole  triumphant  result  was  worked  out 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  293 

of  women  and  children,  and  two  disabled  men  ;  in  other 
words,  he  boasts  that  out  of  women  and  children,  and  the 
feeble  and  sickly,  he  has  extracted  four  thousand  eight  hun 
dred  and  eighty  pounds  of  clean  picked  cotton  in  a  day  ; 
and  that  one  of  these  same  hands  has  been  made  to  pick 
nineteen  hundred  pounds  of  clean  cotton  in  a  week  !  and 
adds,  complacently,  that,  when  any  of  his  agricultural 
friends  beat  this,  in  the  same  time,  and  during  sunshine, 
he  "  will  try  again." 

Will  any  of  our  readers  now  consider  the  forcing  up  of 
the  hands  on  Legree's  plantation  an  exaggeration  ?  Yet 
see  how  complacently  this  account  is  quoted  by  the  editor, 
as  a  most  praiseworthy  and  laudable  thing ! 


CHAPTER  XI 

SELECT    INCIDENTS    OF    LAWFUL    TRADE 

In  this  chapter  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  were  recorded 
some  of  the  most  highly  wrought  and  touching  incidents  of 
the  slave-trade.  It  will  be  well  to  authenticate  a  few  of 
them. 

One  of  the  first  sketches  presented  to  view  is  an  account 
of  the  separation  of  a  very  old,  decrepit  negro  woman  from 
her  young  son,  by  a  sheriff's  sale.  The  writer  is  sorry  to 
say  that  not  the  slightest  credit  for  invention  is  due  to  her 
in  this  incident.  She  found  it,  almost  exactly  as  it  stands, 
in  the  published  journal  of  a  young  Southerner,  related  as 
a  scene  to  which  he  was  eye-witness.  The  only  circum 
stance  which  she  has  omitted  in  the  narrative  was  one  of 
additional  inhumanity  and  painfulness  which  he  had  de 
lineated.  He  represents  the  boy  as  being  bought  by  a 
planter,  who  fettered  his  hands,  and  tied  a  rope  round  his 
neck  which  he  attached  to  the  neck  of  his  horse,  thus  com- 


294  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

pelling  the  child  to  trot  by  his  side.  This  incident  alone 
was  suppressed  by  the  author. 

Another  scene  of  fraud  and  cruelty,  in  the  same  chapter, 
is  described  as  perpetrated  by  a  Kentucky  slave-master,  who 
sells  a  woman  to  a  trader,  and  induces  her  to  go  with  him 
by  the  deceitful  assertion  that  she  is  to  be  taken  down  the 
river  a  short  distance,  to  work  at  the  same  hotel  with  her 
husband.  This  was  an  instance  which  occurred  under 
the  writer's  own  observation,  some  years  since,  when  she 
was  going  down  the  Ohio  River.  The  woman  was  very  re 
spectable  both  in  appearance  and  dress.  The  writer  recalls 
her  image  now  with  distinctness,  attired  with  great  neat 
ness  in  a  white  wrapper,  her  clothing  and  hair  all  arranged 
with  evident  care,  and  having  with  her  a  prettily  dressed 
boy  about  seven  years  of  age.  She  had  also  a  hair  trunk 
of  clothing,  which  showed  that  she  had  been  carefully  and 
respectably  brought  up.  It  will  be  seen,  in  perusing  the 
account,  that  the  incident  is  somewhat  altered  to  suit  the 
purpose  of  the  story,  the  woman  being  there  represented 
as  carrying  with  her  a  young  infant. 

The  custom  of  unceremoniously  separating  the  infant 
from  its  mother,  when  the  latter  is  about  to  be  taken  from 
a  Northern  to  a  Southern  market,  is  a  matter  of  every-day 
notoriety  in  the  trade.  It  is  not  done  occasionally  and 
sometimes,  but  always,  whenever  there  is  occasion  for  it ; 
and  the  mother's  agonies  are  no  more  regarded  than  those 
of  a  cow  when  her  calf  is  separated  from  her. 

The  reason  of  this  is,  that  the  care  and  raising  of  chil 
dren  is  no  part  of  the  intention  or  provision  of  a  Southern 
plantation.  They  are  a  trouble  ;  they  detract  from  the 
value  of  the  mother  as  a  field-hand,  and  it  is  more  expen 
sive  to  raise  them  than  to  buy  them  ready  raised  ;  they 
are  therefore  left  behind  in  the  making  up  of  a  coffle.  Not 
longer  ago  than  last  summer,  the  writer  was  conversing  with 
Thomas  Strother,  a  slave  minister  of  the  gospel  in  St.  Louis, 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  295 

for  whose  emancipation  she  was  making  some  effort.  He 
incidentally  mentioned  to  her  a  scene  which  he  had  wit 
nessed  but  a  short  time  before,  in  which  a  young  woman  of 
his  acquaintance  came  to  him  almost  in  a  state  of  distrac 
tion,  telling  him  that  she  had  been  sold  to  go  South  with 
a  trader,  and  leave  behind  her  a  nursing  infant. 

The  incident  in  this  same  chapter  which  describes  the 
scene  where  the  wife  of  the  unfortunate  article,  catalogued 
as  "  John  aged  30,"  rushed  on  board  the  boat  and  threw 
her  arms  around  him,  with  moans  and  lamentations,  was  a 
real  incident.  The  gentleman  who  related  it  was  so  stirred 
in  his  spirit  at  the  sight,  that  he  addressed  the  trader  in 
the  exact  words  which  the  writer  represents  the  young  min 
ister  as  having  used  in  her  narrative. 

"  My  friend,  how  can  you,  how  dare  you,  carry  on  a  trade  like 
this  ?  Look  at  those  poor  creatures  !  Here  I  am,  rejoicing  in 
my  heart  that  I  am  going  home  to  my  wife  and  child  ;  and  the 
same  bell  which  is  the  signal  to  carry  me  onward  towards  them 
will  part  this  poor  man  and  his  wife  forever.  Depend  upon  it, 
God  will  bring  you  into  judgment  for  this." 

If  that  gentleman  has  read  the  work,  —  as  perhaps  he  has 
before  now,  —  he  has  probably  recognized  his  own  words. 
One  affecting  incident  in  the  narrative,  as  it  really  occurred, 
ought  to  be  mentioned.  The  wife  was  passionately  be 
moaning  her  husband's  fate,  as  about  to  be  forever  sepa 
rated  from  all  that  he  held  dear,  to  be  sold  to  the  hard 
usage  of  a  Southern  plantation.  The  husband,  in  reply, 
used  that  very  simple  but  sublime  expression  which  the 
writer  has  placed  in  the  mouth  of  Uncle  Tom,  in  similar 
circumstances :  "  There  'II  be  the  same  God  there  that 
there  is  here." 

One  other  incident  mentioned  in  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  " 
may,  perhaps,  be  as  well  verified  in  this  place  as  in  any 
other. 


296  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

The  case  of  old  Prue  was  related  by  a  brother  and  sis 
ter  of  the  writer,  as  follows :  She  was  the  woman  who  sup 
plied  rusks  and  other  articles  of  the  kind  at  the  house  where 
they  boarded.  Her  manners,  appearance,  and  character 
were  just  as  described.  One  day  another  servant  came  in 
her  place,  bringing  the  rusks.  The  sister  of  the  writer  in 
quired  what  had  become  of  Prue.  She  seemed  reluctant 
to  answer  for  some  time,  but  at  last  said  that  they  had 
taken  her  into  the  cellar  and  beaten  her,  and  that  the  flies 
had  got  at  her,  and  she  was  dead  !• 

It  is  well  known  that  there  are  no  cellars,  properly  so 
called,  in  New  Orleans,  the  nature  of  the  ground  being  such 
as  to  forbid  digging.  The  slave  who  used  the  word  had 
probably  been  imported  from  some  State  where  cellars  were 
in  use,  and  applied  the  term  to  the  place  which  was  used 
for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  a  cellar.  A  cook  who  lived  in 
the  writer's  family,  having  lived  most  of  her  life  on  a 
plantation,  always  applied  the  descriptive  terms  of  the  plan 
tation  to  the  very  limited  enclosures  and  retinue  of  a  very 
plain  house  and  yard. 

This  same  lady,  while  living  in  the  same  place,  used 
frequently  to  have  her  compassion  excited  by  hearing  the 
wailings  of  a  sickly  baby  in  a  house  adjoining  their  own,  as 
also  the  objurgations  and  tyrannical  abuse  of  a  ferocious 
virago  upon  its  mother.  She  once  got  an  opportunity  to 
speak  to  its  mother,  who  appeared  heart-broken  and  dejected, 
and  inquired  what  was  the  matter  with  her  child.  Her 
answer  was  that  she  had  had  a  fever,  and  that  her  milk 
was  all  dried  away ;  and  that  her  mistress  was  set  against 
her  child,  and  would  not  buy  milk  for  it.  She  had  tried  to 
feed  it  on  her  own  coarse  food,  but  it  pined  and  cried  con 
tinually  ;  and  in  witness  of  this  she  brought  the  baby  to 
her.  It  was  emaciated  to  a  skeleton.  The  lady  took  the 
little  thing  to  a  friend  of  hers  in  the  house  who  had  been 
recently  confined,  and  who  was  suffering  from  a  redundancy 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S  CABIN  297 

of  milk,  and  begged  her  to  nurse  it.  The  miserable  sight 
of  the  little,  famished,  wasted  thing  affected  the  mother  so 
as  to  overcome  all  other  considerations,  and  she  placed  it  to 
her  breast,  when  it  revived,  and  took  food  with  an  eagerness 
which  showed  how  much  it  had  suffered.  But  the  child 
was  so  reduced  that  this  proved  only  a  transient  alleviation. 
It  was  after  this  almost  impossible  to  get  sight  of  the  wo 
man,  and  the  violent  temper  of  her  mistress  was  such  as  to 
make  it  difficult  to  interfere  in  the  case.  The  lady  secretly 
afforded  what  aid  she  could,  though,  as  she  confessed,  with 
a  sort  of  misgiving  that  it  was  a  cruelty  to  try  to  hold  back 
the  poor  little  sufferer  from  the  refuge  of  the  grave  ;  and  it 
was  a  relief  to  her  when  at  last  its  wailings  ceased,  and  it 
went  where  the  weary  are  at  rest.  This  is  one  of  those 
cases  which  go  to  show  that  the  interest  of  the  owner  will 
not  always  insure  kind  treatment  of  the  slave. 


CHAPTER  XII 

TOPSY 

Topsy  stands  as  the  representative  of  a  large  class  of  the 
children  who  are  growing  up  under  the  institution  of  slavery, 
—  quick,  active,  subtle,  and  ingenious,  apparently  utterly 
devoid  of  principle  and  conscience,  keenly  penetrating,  by 
an  instinct  which  exists  in  the  childish  mind,  the  degradation 
of  their  condition,  and  the  utter  hopelessness  of  rising  above 
it ;  feeling  the  black  skin  on  them,  like  the  mark  of  Cain, 
to  be  a  sign  of  reprobation  and  infamy,  and  urged  on  by  a 
kind  of  secret  desperation  to  make  their  "  calling  and 
election  "  in  sin  "  sure.'7 

Christian  people  have  often  been  perfectly  astonished  and 
discouraged,  as  Miss  Ophelia  was,  in  the  attempt  to  bring 
up  such  children  decently  and  Christianly,  under  a  state  of 


298  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

things  which  takes  away  every  stimulant  which  God  meant 
should  operate  healthfully  on  the  human  mind. 

We  are  not  now  speaking  of  the  Southern  States  merely, 
but  of  the  New  England  States ;  for,  startling  as  it  may 
appear,  slavery  is  not  yet  wholly  abolished  in  the  free 
States  of  the  North.  The  most  unchristian  part  of  it,  that 
which  gives  to  it  all  the  bitterness  and  all  the  sting,  is  yet, 
in  a  great  measure,  unrepealed ;  it  is  the  practical  denial  to 
the  negro  of  the  rights  of  human  brotherhood.  In  conse 
quence  of  this,  Topsy  is  a  character  which  may  be  found  at 
the  North  as  well  as  at  the  South. 

In  conducting  the  education  of  negro,  mulatto,  and 
quadroon  children,  the  writer  has  often  observed  this  fact : 
that,  for  a  certain  time,  and  up  to  a  certain  age,  they  kept 
equal  pace  with,  and  were  often  superior  to,  the  white 
children  with  whom  they  were  associated ;  but  that  there 
came  a  time  when  they  became  indifferent  to  learning,  and 
made  no  further  progress.  This  was  invariably  at  the  age 
when  they  were  old  enough  to  reflect  upon  life,  and  to 
perceive  that  society  had  no  place  to  offer  them  for  which 
anything  more  would  be  requisite  than  the  rudest  and  most 
elementary  knowledge. 

It  is  often  objected  to  the  negro  race  that  they  are  frivo 
lous  and  vain,  passionately  fond  of  show,  and  are  interested 
only  in  trifles.  And  who  is  to  blame  for  all  this  ?  Take 
away  all  high  aims,  all  noble  ambition,  from  any  class,  and 
what  is  left  for  them  to  be  interested  in  but  trifles  ? 

The  present  attorney-general  of  Liberia,  Mr.  Lewis,  is  a 
man  who  commands  the  highest  respect,  for  talent  and 
ability  in  his  position ;  yet,  while  he  was  in  America,  it  is 
said  that,  like  many  other  young  colored  men,  he  was  dis 
tinguished  only  for  foppery  and  frivolity.  What  made  the 
change  in  Lewis  after  he  went  to  Liberia  ?  Who  does  not 
see  the  answer  ?  Does  any  one  wish  to  know  what  is  in- 


A    KEY    TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN  299 

scribed  on  the  seal  which  keeps  the  great  stone  over  the 
sepulchre  of  African  mind  ?  It  is  this,  —  which  was  so 
truly  said  by  poor  Topsy,  —  "  NOTHING  BUT  A  NIGGER  !  " 
It  is  this,  burnt  into  the  soul  by  the  branding-iron  of 
cruel  and  unchristian  scorn,  that  is  a  sorer  and  deeper 
wound  than  all  the  physical  evils  of  slavery  together. 

An  acquaintance  of  the  writer  was  married  to  a  gentle 
man  in  Louisana,  who  was  the  proprietor  of  some  eight 
hundred  slaves.  He,  of  course,  had  a  large  train  of  ser 
vants  in  his  domestic  establishment.  When  about  to  enter 
upon  her  duties,  she  was  warned  that  the  servants  were  all 
so  thievish  that  she  would  be  under  the  necessity,  in  com 
mon  with  all  other  housekeepers,  of  keeping  everything 
under  lock  and  key.  She,  however,  announced  her  in 
tention  of  training  her  servants  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
make  this  unnecessary.  Her  ideas  were  ridiculed  as  chi 
merical,  but  she  resolved  to  carry  them  into  practice.  The 
course  she  pursued  was  as  follows :  She  called  all  the 
family  servants  together ;  told  them  that  it  would  be  a 
great  burden  and  restraint  upon  her  to  be  obliged  to  keep 
everything  locked  from  them  ;  that  she  had  heard  that  they 
were  not  at  all  to  be  trusted,  but  that  she  could  not  help 
hoping  that  they  were  much  better  than  they  had  been 
represented.  She  told  them  that  she  should  provide  abun 
dantly  for  all  their  wants,  and  then  that  she  should  leave 
her  stores  unlocked,  and  trust  to  their  honor. 

The  idea  that  they  were  supposed  capable  of  having  any 
honor  struck  a  new  chord  at  once  in  every  heart.  The 
servants  appeared  most  grateful  for  the  trust,  and  there  was 
much  public  spirit  excited,  the  older  and  graver  ones  exert 
ing  themselves  to  watch  over  the  children,  that  nothing 
might  be  done  to  destroy  this  new-found  treasure  of  honor. 

At  last,  however,  the  lady  discovered  that  some  depreda 
tions  had  been  made  on  her  cake  by  some  of  the  juvenile 


300  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

part  of  the  establishment ;  she  therefore  convened  all  the 
servants,  and  stated  the  fact  to  them.  She  remarked  that 
it  was  not  on  account  of  the  value  of  the  cake  that  she  felt 
annoyed,  but  that  they  must  be  sensible  that  it  would  not 
be  pleasant  for  her  to  have  it  indiscriminately  fingered  and 
handled,  and  that,  therefore,  she  should  set  some  cake  out 
upon  a  table,  or  some  convenient  place,  and  beg  that  all 
those  who  were  disposed  to  take  it  would  go  there  and  help 
themselves,  and  allow  the  rest  to  remain  undisturbed  in  the 
closet.  She  states  that  the  cake  stood  upon  the  table  and 
dried,  without  a  morsel  of  it  being  touched,  and  that  she 
never  afterwards  had  any  trouble  in  this  respect. 

A  little  time  after,  a  new  carriage  was  bought,  and  one 
night  the  leather  boot  of  it  wras  found  to  be  missing.  Be 
fore  her  husband  had  time  to  take  any  steps  on  the  subject, 
the  servants  of  the  family  called  a  convention  among  them 
selves,  and  instituted  an  inquiry  into  the  offense.  The  boot 
was  found  and  promptly  restored,  though  they  would  not 
reveal  to  their  master  and  mistress  the  name  of  the  offender. 

One  other  anecdote  which  this  lady  related  illustrates 
that  peculiar  devotion  of  a  slave  to  a  good  master,  to  which 
allusion  has  been  made.  Her  husband  met  with  his  death 
by  a  sudden  and  melancholy  accident.  He  had  a  personal 
attendant  and  confidential  servant  who  had  grown  up  with 
him  from  childhood.  This  servant  was  so  overwhelmed  with 
grief  as  to  be  almost  stupefied.  On  the  day  of  the  funeral 
a  brother  of  his  deceased  master  inquired  of  him  if  he  had 
performed  a  certain  commission  for  his  mistress.  The  ser 
vant  said  that  he  had  forgotten  it.  Not  perceiving  his  feel 
ings  at  the  moment,  the  gentleman  replied,  "  I  am  surprised 
that  you  should  neglect  any  command  of  your  mistress, 
when  she  is  in  such  affliction." 

This  remark  was  the  last  drop  in  the  full  cup.  The 
poor  fellow  fell  to  the  ground  entirely  insensible,  and  the 
family  were  obliged  to  spend  nearly  two  hours  employing 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  301 

various  means  to  restore  his  vitality.  The  physician  ac 
counted  for  his  situation  by  saying  that  there  had  been  such 
a  rush  of  all  the  blood  in  the  body  towards  the  heart,  that 
there  was  actual  clanger  of  a  rupture  of  that  organ,  —  a  lit 
eral  death  by  a  broken  heart. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    QUAKERS 

The  writer's  sketch  of  the  character  of  this  people  has 
been  drawn  from  personal  observation.  There  are  several 
settlements  of  these  people  in  Ohio,  and  the  manner  of 
living,  the  tone  of  sentiment,  and  the  habits  of  life,  as  rep 
resented  in  her  book,  are  not  at  all  exaggerated. 

These  settlements  have  always  been  refuges  for  the  op 
pressed  and  outlawed  slave.  The  character  of  Rachel  Hal- 
liday  was  a  real  one,  but  she  has  passed  away  to  her  reward. 
Simeon  Halliday,  calmly  risking  fine  and  imprisonment  for 
his  love  to  God  and  man,  has  had  in  this  country  many 
counterparts  among  the  sect. 

The  writer  had  in  mind,  at  the  time  of  writing,  the 
scenes  in  the  trial  of  Thomas  Garrett,  of  Wilmington,  Dela 
ware,  for  the  crime  of  hiring  a  hack  to  convey  a  mother  and 
four  children  from  Newcastle  jail  to  Wilmington,  a  distance 
of  five  miles. 

The  writer  has  received  the  facts  in  this  case  in  a  letter 
from  Thomas  Garrett  himself,  from  which  some  extracts 

will  be  made  :  — 

WILMINGTON,  DELAWARE, 
1st  month  18th,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, 

HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE,  —  I  have  this  day  received  a  re 
quest  from  Charles  K.  Whipple,  of  Boston,  to  furnish  thee 
with  a  statement,  authentic  and  circumstantial,  of  the  trouble 
and  losses  which  have  been  brought  upon  myself  and  others  of 


302  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

my  friends  from  the  aid  we  had  rendered  to  fugitive  slaves,  in 
order,  if  thought  of  sufficient  importance,  to  be  published  in 
a  work  thee  is  now  preparing  for  the  press. 

I  will  now  endeavor  to  give  thee  a  statement  of  what  John 
Hunn  and  myself  suffered  by  aiding  a  family  of  slaves,  a  few 
years  since.  I  will  give  the  facts  as  they  occurred,  and  thee 
may  condense  and  publish  so  much  as  thee  may  think  useful 
in  thy  work,  and  no  more  :  — 

In  the  12th  month,  year  1846,  a  family,  consisting  of  Sam 
uel  Hawkins,  a  freeman,  his  wife  Emeline,  and  six  children, 
who  were  afterwards  proved  slaves,  stopped  at  the  house  of  a 
friend  named  John  Hunn,  near  Middletown,  in  this  State,  in 
the  evening  about  sunset,  to  procure  food  and  lodging  for  the 
night.  They  were  seen  by  some  of  Hunn's  pro-slavery  neigh 
bors,  who  soon  came  with  a  constable,  and  had  them  taken  be 
fore  a  magistrate.  Hunn  had  left  the  slaves  in  his  kitchen 
when  he  went  to  the  village  of  Middletown,  half  a  mile  dis 
tant.  When  the  officer  came  with  a  warrant  for  them,  he  met 
Hunn  at  the  kitchen  door,  and  asked  for  the  blacks ;  Hunn, 
with  truth,  said  he  did  not  know  where  they  were.  Hunn's 
wife,  thinking  they  would  be  safer,  had  sent  them  upstairs 
during  his  absence,  where  they  were  found.  Hunn  made  no 
resistance,  and  they  were  taken  before  the  magistrate,  and  from 
his  office  direct  to  Newcastle  jail,  where  they  arrived  about  one 
o'clock  on  7th  day  morning. 

The  sheriff  and  his  daughter,  being  kind,  humane  people, 
inquired  of  Hawkins  and  wife  the  facts  of  their  case  ;  and  his 
daughter  wrote  to  a  lady  here,  to  request  me  to  go  to  Newcastle 
and  inquire  into  the  case,  as  her  father,  and  self  really  believed 
they  were  most  of  them,  if  not  all,  entitled  to  their  freedom. 
Next  morning  I  went  to  Newcastle  :  had  the  family  of  colored 
people  brought  into  the  parlor,  and  the  sheriff  and  myself  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  parents  and  four  youngest  children  were 
by  law  entitled  to  their  freedom.  I  prevailed  on  the  sheriff  to 
show  me  the  commitment  of  the  magistrate,  which  I  found  was 
defective,  and  not  in  due  form  according  to  law.  I  procured  a 
copy  and  handed  it  to  a  lawyer.  He  pronounced  the  commit 
ment  irregular,  and  agreed  to  go  next  morning  to  Newcastle, 
and  have  the  whole  family  taken  before  Judge  Booth,  Chief 
Justice  of  the  State,  by  habeas  corpus,  when  the  following  ad 
mission  was  made  by  Samuel  Hawkins  and  wife  :  They  admitted 
that  the  two  eldest  boys  were  held  by  one  Charles  Glaudin,  of 


A    KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  303 

Queen  Anne  County,  Maryland,  as  slaves  ;  that  after  the  birth 
of  these  two  children,  Elizabeth  Turner,  also  of  Queen  Anne, 
the  mistress  of  their  mother,  had  set  her  free,  and  permitted 
her  to  go  and  live  with  her  husband,  near  twenty  miles  from 
her  residence,  after  which  the  four  youngest  children  were  born ; 
that  her  mistress  during  all  that  time,  eleven  or  twelve  years, 
had  never  contributed  one  dollar  to  their  support,  or  come  to 
see  them.  After  examining  the  commitment  in  their  case,  and 
consulting  with  my  attorney,  the  judge  set  the  whole  family  at 
liberty.  The  day  was  wet  and  cold  ;  one  of  the  children,  three 
years  old,  was  a  cripple  from  white  swelling,  and  could  not 
walk  a  step  ;  another,  eleven  months  old,  at  the  breast ;  and  the 
parents  being  desirous  of  getting  to  Wilmington,  five  miles  dis 
tant,  I  asked  the  judge  if  there  would  be  any  risk  or  impro 
priety  in  my  hiring  a  conveyance  for  the  mother  and  four 
young  children  to  Wilmington.  His  reply,  in  the  presence  of 
the  sheriff  and  my  attorney,  was  there  would  not  be  any.  I 
then  requested  the  sheriff  to  procure  a  hack  to  take  them  over 
to  Wilmington. 

The  whole  family  escaped.  John  Hunn  and  Thomas 
Garrett  were  brought  up  to  trial  for  having  practically  ful 
filled  those  words  of  Christ  which  read,  "  I  was  a  stranger 
and  ye  took  me  in,  I  was  sick  and  in  prison  and  ye  came 
unto  me,"  For  John  Hunn's  part  of  this  crime,  he  was 
fined  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  and  Thomas  Gar 
rett  was  fined  five  thousand  four  hundred.  Three  thousand 
five  hundred  of  this  was  the  fine  for  hiring  a  hack  for 
them,  and  one  thousand  nine  hundred  was  assessed  on  him 
as  the  value  of  the  slaves  !  Our  European  friends  will  infer 
from  this  that  it  costs  something  to  obey  Christ  in  America, 
as  well  as  in  Europe. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    SPIRIT    OF    ST.    CLARE 

[Occupied    with    favorable    notices    of    "  Uncle    Tom's 
Cabin  "  from  Southern  men  and  journals.] 


304  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 


PAET  II 
CHAPTER  I 

THE  New  York  "  Courier  and  Enquirer  "  of  November 
5th  contained  an  article  which  has  been  quite  valuable  to 
the  author,  as  summing  up,  in  a  clear,  concise,  and  intel 
ligible  form,  the  principal  objections  which  may  be  urged 
to  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  It  is  here  quoted  in  full,  as  the 
foundation  of  the  remarks  in  the  following  pages. 

The  author  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  that  writer  states, 
has  committed  false  witness  against  thousands  and  millions 
of  her  fellow-men. 

"  She  has  done  it  [he  says]  by  attaching  to  them  as  slavehold 
ers,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  the  guilt  of  the  abuses  of  an 
institution  of  which  they  are  absolutely  guiltless.  Her  story 
is  so  devised  as  to  present  slavery  in  three  dark  aspects  :  first, 
the  cruel  treatment  of  the  slaves ;  second,  the  separation  of  fam 
ilies  ;  and,  third,  their  want  of  religious  instruction. 

"  To  show  the  first,  she  causes  a  reward  to  be  offered  for  the 
recovery  of  a  runaway  slave,  '  dead  or  alive,'  when  no  reward 
with  such  an  alternative  was  ever  heard  of,  or  dreamed  of, 
south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  and  it  has  been  decided  over 
and  over  again  in  Southern  courts  that  '  a  slave  who  is  merely 
flying  away  cannot  be  killed.'  She  puts  such  language  as  this 
into  the  mouth  of  one  of  her  speakers  :  *  The  master  who  goes 
furthest  and  does  the  worst  only  uses  within  limits  the  power 
that  the  law  gives  him ; '  when,  in  fact,  the  civil  code  of  the 
very  State  where  it  is  represented  the  language  was  uttered  — 
Louisiana  —  declares  that 

"  '  The  slave  is  entirely  subject  to  the  will  of  his  master,  who 
may  correct  and  chastise  him,  though  not  ivith  unusual  rigor,  nor 
so  as  to  maim  or  mutilate  him,  or  to  expose  him  to  the  danger  of  loss 
of  life,  or  to  cause  his  death.' 

"  And  provides  for  a  compulsory  sale 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  305 

"  '  When  the  master  shall  be  convicted  of  cruel  treatment 
of  his  slaves,  and  the  judge  shall  deem  proper  to  pronounce, 
besides  the  penalty  established  for  such  cases,  that  the  slave 
be  sold  at  public  auction,  in  order  to  place  him  out  of  the  reach 
of  the  power  which  the  master  has  abused.' 

"  '  If  any  person  whatsoever  shall  willfully  kill  his  slave,  or 
the  slave  of  another  person,  the  said  person,  being  convicted 
thereof,  shall  be  tried  and  condemned  agreeably  to  the  laws.' 

"  In  the  General  Court  of  Virginia,  last  year,  in  the  case  of 
Souther  v.  The  Commonwealth,  it  was  held  that  the  killing  of  a 
slave  by  his  master  and  owner,  by  willful  and  excessive  whip 
ping,  is  murder  in  the  first  degree,  though  it  may  not  have  been 
the  purpose  of  the  master  and  owner  to  kill  the  slave  !  And  it  is 
not  six  months  since  Governor  Johnston,  of  Virginia,  pardoned 
a  slave  who  killed  his  master,  who  was  beating  him  with  brutal 
severity. 

"  And  yet,  in  the  face  of  such  laws  and  decisions  as  these,  Mrs. 
Stowe  winds  up  a  long  series  of  cruelties  upon  her  other  black 
personages,  by  causing  her  faultless  hero,  Tom,  to  be  literally 
whipped  to  death  in  Louisiana,  by  his  master,  Legree ;  and 
these  acts,  which  the  laws  make  criminal,  and  punish  as  such, 
she  sets  forth  in  the  most  repulsive  colors,  to  illustrate  the 
institution  of  slavery  ! 

"So,  too,  in  reference  to  the  separation  of  children  from 
their  parents.  A  considerable  part  of  the  plot  is  made  to  hinge 
upon  the  selling,  in  Louisiana,  of  the  child  Eliza,  '  eight  or 
nine  years  old,'  away  from  her  mother ;  when,  had  its  inventor 
looked  in  the  statute-book  of  Louisiana,  she  would  have  found 
the  following  language  :  — 

"  '  Every  person  is  expressly  prohibited  from  selling  sepa 
rately  from  their  mothers  the  children  who  shall  not  have  attained 
the  full  age  often  years.' 

"  '  Be  it  further  enacted,  That  if  any  person  or  persons  shall 
sell  the  mother  of  any  slave  child  or  children  under  the  age  of 
ten  years,  separate  from  said  child  or  children,  or  shall,  the  mother 
living,  sell  any  slave  child  or  children  often  years  of  age,  or  under, 
separate  from  said  mother,  said  person  or  persons  shall  be  fined 
not  less  than  one  thousand  nor  more  than  two  thousand  dol 
lars,  and  be  imprisoned  in  the  public  jail  for  a  period  of  not 
less  than  six  months  nor  more  than  one  year.' 

"  The  privation  of  religious  instruction,  as  represented  by  Mrs. 
Stowe,  is  utterly  unfounded  in  fact.  The  largest  churches  in 


306  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

the  Union  consist  entirely  of  slaves.  The  first  African  church 
in  Louisville,  which  numbers  fifteen  hundred  persons,  and  the 
first  African  church  in  Augusta,  which  numbers  thirteen  hun 
dred,  are  specimens.  On  multitudes  of  the  large  plantations 
in  the  different  parts  of  the  South  the  ordinances  of  the  gospel 
are  as  regularly  maintained,  by  competent  ministers,  as  in  any 
other  communities,  North  or  South.  A  larger  proportion  of 
the  slave  population  are  in  communion  with  some  Christian 
church,  than  of  the  white  population  in  any  part  of  the  coun 
try.  A  very  considerable  portion  of  every  Southern  congrega 
tion,  either  in  city  or  country,  is  sure  to  consist  of  blacks ; 
whereas,  of  our  Northern  churches,  not  a  colored  person  is  to 
be  seen  in  one  out  of  fifty. 

"The  peculiar  falsity  of  this  whole  book  consists  in  making 
exceptional  or  impossible  cases  the  representatives  of  the  sys 
tem.  By  the  same  process  which  she  has  used,  it  would  not 
be  difficult  to  frame  a  fatal  argument  against  the  relation  of 
husband  and  wife,  or  parent  and  child,  or  of  guardian  and 
ward;  for  thousands  of  wives  and  children  and  wards  have 
been  maltreated,  and  even  murdered.  It  is  wrong,  unpardon- 
ably  wrong,  to  impute  to  any  relation  of  life  those  enormities 
which  spring  only  out  of  the  worst  depravity  of  human  nature. 
A  ridiculously  extravagant  spirit  of  generalization  pervades 
this  fiction  from  beginning  to  end.  The  Uncle  Tom  of  the 
authoress  is  a  perfect  angel,  and  her  blacks  generally  are  half 
angels ;  her  Simon  Legree  is  a  perfect  demon,  and  her  whites 
generally  are  half  demons.  She  has  quite  a  peculiar  spite 
against  the  clergy ;  and,  of  the  many  she  introduces  at  differ 
ent  times  into  the  scenes,  all,  save  an  insignificant  exception, 
are  Pharisees  or  hypocrites.  One  who  could  know  nothing  of 
the  United  States  and  its  people,  except  by  what  he  might 
gather  from  this  book,  would  judge  that  it  was  some  region 
just  on  the  confines  of  the  infernal  world.  We  do  not  say  that 
Mrs.  Stowe  was  actuated  by  wrong  motives  in  the  preparation 
of  this  work,  but  we  do  say  that  she  has  done  a  wrong  which 
no  ignorance  can  excuse  and  no  penance  can  expiate." 

When  writing  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  though  entirely 
unaware  and  unexpectant  of  the  importance  which  would 
be  attached  to  its  statements  and  opinions,  the  author  of 
that  work  was  anxious,  from  love  of  consistency,  to  have 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  307 

some  understanding  of  the  laws  of  the  slave  system.  She 
had  on  hand  for  reference,  while  writing,  the  Code  Noir  of 
Louisiana,  and  a  sketch  of  the  laws  relating  to  slavery  in 
the  different  States,  by  Judge  Stroud,  of  Philadelphia. 
This  work,  professing  to  have  been  compiled  with  great  care 
from  the  latest  editions  of  the  statute-books  of  the  several 
States,  the  author  supposed  to  be  a  sufficient  guide  for  the 
writing  of  a  work  of  fiction.  As  the  accuracy  of  those 
statements  which  relate  to  the  slave  laws  has  been  particu 
larly  contested,  a  more  especial  inquiry  has  been  made  in 
this  direction.  Under  the  guidance  and  with  the  assistance 
of  legal  gentlemen  of  high  standing,  the  writer  has  pro 
ceeded  to  examine  the  statements  of  Judge  Stroud  with 
regard  to  statute  law,  and  to  follow  them  up  with  some  in 
quiry  into  the  decisions  of  courts.  The  result  has  been  an 
increasing  conviction  on  her  part  that  the  impressions  first 
derived  from  Judge  S  trend's  work  were  correct  ;  and  the 
author  now  can  only  give  the  words  of  St.  Clare,  as  the 
best  possible  expression  of  the  sentiments  and  opinion 
which  this  course  of  reading  has  awakened  in  her  mind. 

"  This  cursed  business,  accursed  of  God  and  man,  what  is  it  ? 
Strip  it  of  all  its  ornament,  run  it  down  to  the  root  and  nucleus 
of  the  whole,  and  what  is  it?  Why,  because  my  brother 
Quashy  is  ignorant  and  weak,  and  I  am  intelligent  and  strong, 
—  because  I  know  how,  and  can  do  it,  —  therefore,  I  may  steal 
all  he  has,  keep  it,  and  give  him  only  such  and  so  much  as 
suits  my  fancy  !  Whatever  is  too  hard,  too  dirty,  too  disagree 
able,  for  me,  I  may  set  Quashy  to  doing.  Because  I  don't  like 
work,  Quashy  shall  work.  Because  the  sun  burns  me,  Quashy 
shall  stay  in  the  sun.  Quashy  shall  earn  the  money,  and  I 
will  spend  it.  Quashy  shall  lie  down  in  every  puddle,  that  I 
may  walk  over  dry-shod.  Quashy  shall  do  my  will,  and  not 
his,  all  the  days  of  his  mortal  life,  and  have  such  chance  of 
getting  to  heaven,  at  last,  as  I  find  convenient.  This  I  take  to 
be  about  what  slavery  is.  I  defy  anybody  on  earth  to  read 
our  slave-code,  as  it  stands  in  our  law-books,  and  make  any 
thing  else  of  it.  Talk  of  the  abuses  of  slavery!  Humbug! 


308  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

The  thing  itself  is  the  essence  of  all  abuse.  And  the  only  reason 
why  the  land  don't  sink  under  it,  like  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
is  because  it  is  used  in  a  way  infinitely  better  than  it  is. 
For  pity's  sake,  for  shame's  sake,  because  we  are  men  born  of 
women,  and  not  savage  beasts,  many  of  us  do  not,  and  dare 
not,  —  we  would  scorn  to  use  the  full  power  which  our  savage 
laws  put  into  our  hands.  And  he  who  goes  the  furthest,  and 
does  the  worst,  only  uses  within  limits  the  power  that  the  law 
gives  him." 

The  author  still  holds  to  the  opinion  that  slavery  in  it 
self,  as  legally  denned  in  law-books  and  expressed  in  the 
records  of  courts,  is  the  SUM  AND  ESSENCE  OF  ALL  ABUSE  ; 
and  she  still  clings  to  the  hope  that  there  are  many  men 
at  the  South  infinitely  better  than  their  laws ;  and  after 
the  reader  has  read  all  the  extracts  which  she  has  to  make, 
for  the  sake  of  a  common  humanity  they  will  hope  the 
same.  The  author  must  state,  with  regard  to  some  pas 
sages  which  she  must  quote,  that  the  language  of  certain 
enactments  was  so  incredible  that  she  would  not  take  it  on 
the  authority  of  any  compilation  whatever,  but  copied  it 
with  her  own  hand  from  the  latest  edition  of  the  statute- 
book  \vhere  it  stood  and  still  stands. 


CHAPTER   II 

WHAT    IS    SLAVERY  ? 

The  author  will  now  enter  into  a  consideration  of  slav 
ery  as  it  stands  revealed  in  slave  law. 

What  is  it,  according  to  the  definition  of  law-books  and 
of  legal  interpreters  ?  "A  slave,"  says  the  law  of  Louisi 
ana,  "  is  one  who  is  in  the  power  of  a  master,  to  whom  he 
belongs.  The  master  may  sell  him,  dispose  of  his  person, 
his  industry,  and  his  labor ;  he  can  do  nothing,  possess  no 
thing,  nor  acquire  anything,  but  what  must  belong  to 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  309 

his  master." 1  South  Carolina  says,  "  Slaves  shall  be 
deemed,  sold,  taken,  reputed,  and  adjudged  in  law,  to  be 
chattels  personal  in  the  hands  of  their  owners  and  possess 
ors,  and  their  executors,  and  administrators,  and  assigns, 

TO  ALL  INTENTS,  CONSTRUCTIONS,  AND  PURPOSES  WHAT 
SOEVER."  2  The  law  of  Georgia  is  similar. 

Let  the  reader  reflect  on  the  extent  of  the  meaning  in 
this  last  clause.  Judge  Kuffin,  pronouncing  the  opinion 
of  the  Supreme  Court  of  North  Carolina,  says,  a  slave 
is  "  one  doomed  in  his  own  person,  and  his  posterity,  to 
live  without  knowledge,  and  without  the  capacity  to  make 
anything  his  own,  and  to  toil  that  another  may  reap 
the  fruits."  3 

This  is  what  slavery  is,  —  this  is  what  it  is  to  be  a 
slave  !  The  slave-code,  then,  of  the  Southern  States,  is 
designed  to  keep  millions  of  human  beings  in  the  condition 
of  chattels  personal  ;  to  keep  them  in  a  condition  in  which 
the  master  may  sell  them,  dispose  of  their  time,  person,  and 
labor  ;  in  which  they  can  do  nothing,  possess  nothing,  and 
acquire  nothing,  except  for  the  benefit  of  the  master  j  in 
which  they  are  doomed  in  themselves  and  in  their  posterity 
to  live  without  knowledge,  without  the  power  to  make  any 
thing  their  own,  —  to  toil  that  another  may  reap.  The 
laws  of  the  slave-code  are  designed  to  work  out  this  prob 
lem,  consistently  with  the  peace  of  the  community,  and  the 
safety  of  that  superior  race  which  is  constantly  to  perpe 
trate  this  outrage. 

From  this  simple  statement  of  what  the  laws  of  slavery 
are  designed  to  do,  —  from  a  consideration  that  the  class 
thus  to  be  reduced,  and  oppressed,  and  made  the  subjects 
of  a  perpetual  robbery,  are  men  of  like  passions  with  our 
own,  men  originally  made  in  the  image  of  God  as  much  as 

1  Civil  Code,  Art.  35. 

2  2  Brev.  Dig.  229.    Prince's  Digest,  446. 

8  Wheeler's  Law  of  Slavery,  246.     State  v.  Mann. 


310  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

ourselves,  men  partakers  of  that  same  humanity  of  which 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  highest  ideal  and  expression,  —  when 
we  consider  that  the  material  thus  to  be  acted  upon  is  that 
fearfully  explosive  element,  the  soul  of  man ;  that  soul 
elastic,  upspringing,  immortal,  whose  free  will  even  the  Om 
nipotence  of  God  refuses  to  coerce,  —  we  may  form  some  idea 
of  the  tremendous  force  which  is  necessary  to  keep  this 
mightiest  of  elements  in  the  state  of  repression  which  is 
contemplated  in  the  definition  of  slavery. 

Of  course,  the  system  necessary  to  consummate  and  per 
petuate  such  a  work,  from  age  to  age,  must  be  a  fearfully 
stringent  one  ;  and  our  readers  will  find  that  it  is  so.  Men 
who  make  the  laws,  and  men  who  interpret  them,  may  be 
fully  sensible  of  their  terrible  severity  and  inhumanity  ;  but, 
if  they  are  going  to  preserve  the  THING,  they  have  no  re 
source  but  to  make  the  laws,  and  to  execute  them  faithfully 
after  they  are  made.  They  may  say,  with  the  honorable 
Judge  Ruffin,  of  North  Carolina,  when  solemnly  from  the 
bench  announcing  this  great  foundation  principle  of  slavery, 

that  "  THE  POWER  OF  THE  MASTER  MUST  BE  ABSOLUTE, 
TO  RENDER  THE  SUBMISSION  OF  THE  SLAVE  PERFECT," 

—  they  may  say,  with  him,  "I  most  freely  confess  my 
sense  of  the  harshness  of  this  proposition;  I  feel  it  as 
deeply  as  any  man  can  ;  and,  as  a  principle  of  moral  right, 
every  person  in  his  retirement  must  repudiate  it  ;  "  — but 
they  will  also  be  obliged  to  add,  with  him,  "  But,  in  the 
actual  condition  of  things,  it  MUST  BE  so.  ...  This  disci 
pline  belongs  to  the  state  of  slavery.  ...  It  is  INHERENT 
in  the  relation  of  master  and  slave." 

And,  like  Judge  Ruffin,  men  of  honor,  men  of  humanity, 
men  of  kindest  and  gentlest  feelings,  are  obliged  to  inter 
pret  these  severe  laws  with  inflexible  severity.  In  the 
perpetual  reaction  of  that  awful  force  of  human  passion 
and  human  will,  which  necessarily  meets  the  compressive 
power  of  slavery,  —  in  that  seething,  boiling  tide,  never 


A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  311 

wholly  repressed,  which  rolls  its  volcanic  stream  under 
neath  the  whole  framework  of  society  so  constituted,  ready 
to  find  vent  at  the  least  rent  or  fissure  or  unguarded  aper 
ture,  —  there  is  a  constant  necessity  which  urges  to  sever 
ity  of  law  and  inflexibility  of  execution.  So  Judge  Ruffin 
says,  "We  cannot  allow  the  right  of  the  matter  to  be 
brought  into  discussion  in  the  courts  of  justice.  The  slave, 
to  remain  a  slave,  must  be  made  sensible  that  there  is  NO 
APPEAL  FROM  HIS  MASTER."  Accordingly,  we  find  in  the 
more  southern  States,  where  the  slave  population  is  most 
accumulated,  and  slave  property  most  necessary  and  valu 
able,  and,  of  course,  the  determination  to  abide  by  the  sys 
tem  the  most  decided,  there  the  enactments  are  most  se 
vere,  and  the  interpretation  of  courts  the  most  inflexible.1 
And,  when  legal  decisions  of  a  contrary  character  begin  to 
be  made,  it  would  appear  that  it  is  a  symptom  of  leaning 
towards  emancipation.  So  abhorrent  is  the  slave-code  to 
every  feeling  of  humanity  that  just  as  soon  as  there  is  any 
hesitancy  in  the  community  about  perpetuating  the  institu 
tion  of  slavery,  judges  begin  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  their 
more  honorable  nature,  and  by  favorable  interpretations  to 
soften  its  necessary  severities. 

The  reader  is  now  prepared  to  enter  with  us  on  the  proof 
of  this  proposition  :  That  the  slave-code  is  designed  only 
for  the  security  of  the  master,  and  not  with  regard  to 
the  laelfare  of  the  slave. 

This  is  implied  in  the  whole  current  of  law-making  and 
law-administration,  and  is  often  asserted  in  distinct  form, 
with  a  precision  and  clearness  of  legal  accuracy  which,  in  a 
literary  point  of  view,  are  quite  admirable.  Thus,  Judge 
Ruffin,  after  stating  that  considerations  restricting  the  power 

1  We  except  the  State  of  Louisiana.  Owing  to  the  influence  of  the 
French  code  in  that  State,  more  really  humane  provisions  prevail  there. 
How  much  these  provisions  avail  in  point  of  fact  will  be  shown  when  we 
come  to  that  part  of  the  subject. 


312  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

of  the  master  had  often  "been  drawn  from  a  comparison  of 
slavery  with  the  relation  of  parent  and  child,  master  and 
apprentice,  tutor  and  pupil,  says  distinctly  :  — 

"  The  court  does  not  recognize  their  application.  There  is 
no  likeness  between  the  cases.  They  are  in  opposition  to  each 
other,  and  there  is  an  impassable  gulf  between  them.  .  .  . 

"  In  the  one  [case],  the  end  in  view  is  the  happiness  of  the 
youth,  born  to  equal  rights  with  that  governor,  on  whom  the 
duty  devolves  of  training  the  young  to  usefulness,  in  a  station 
which  he  is  afterwards  to  assume  among  freemen.  .  .  .  With 
slavery  it  is  far  otherwise.  The  end  is  the  profit  of  the  master, 
his  security,  and  the  public  safety." 1 

Not  only  is  this  principle  distinctly  asserted-  in  so  many 
words,  but  it  is  more  distinctly  implied  in  multitudes  of 
the  arguings  and  reasonings  which  are  given  as  grounds  of 
legal  decisions.  Even  such  provisions  as  seem  to  be  for 
the  benefit  of  the  slave  we  often  find  carefully  interpreted 
so  as  to  show  that  it  is  only  on  account  of  his  property  value 
to  his  master  that  he  is  thus  protected,  and  not  from  any 
consideration  of  humanity  towards  himself.  Thus  it  has 
been  decided  that  a  master  can  bring  no  action  for  assault 
and  battery  on  his  slave,  unless  the  injury  be  such  as  to 
produce  a  loss  of  service* 


CHAPTER  III 

SOUTHER  V.  THE  COMMONWEALTH  —  THE  NE  PLUS 
ULTRA  OF  LEGAL  HUMANITY 

The  case  of  Souther  v.  The  Commonwealth  has  been  cited 
by  the  "  Courier  and  Enquirer  "  as  a  particularly  favorable 
specimen  of  judicial  proceedings  under  the  slave-code,  with 
the  following  remark  :  — 

1  Wheeler's  Law  of  Slavery,  page  246. 

2  Wheeler's  Law  of  Slavery,  page  239. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  313 

"  And  yet,  in  the  face  of  such  laws  and  decisions  as  these, 
Mrs.  Stowe  winds  up  a  long  series  of  cruelties  upon  her  other 
black  personages,  by  causing  her  faultless  hero,  Tom,  to  be  lit 
erally  whipped  to  death  in  Louisiana,  by  his  master,  Legree ; 
and  these  acts,  which  the  laws  make  criminal,  and  punish  as 
such,  she  sets  forth  in  the  most  repulsive  colors,  to  illustrate 
the  institution  of  slavery ! " 

By  the  above  language  the  author  was  led  into  the  sup 
position  that  this  case  had  been  conducted  in  a  manner  so 
creditable  to  the  feelings  of  our  common  humanity  as  to 
present  a  fairer  side  of  criminal  jurisprudence  in  this  re 
spect.  She  accordingly  took  the  pains  to  procure  a  report 
of  the  case,  designing  to  publish  it  as  an  offset  to  the  many 
barbarities  which  research  into  this  branch  of  the  subject 
obliges  one  to  unfold.  A  legal  gentleman  has  copied  the 
case  from  Grattan's  Reports,  and  it  is  here  given.  If  the 
reader  is  astounded  at  it,  he  cannot  be  more  so  than  was 
the  writer. 

Souther  v.  The  Commonwealth,  7  Grattan,  673,  1851. 

The  killing  of  a  slave  by  his  master  and  owner,  by  willful  and  excessive 
whipping,  is  murder  in  the  first  degree  :  though  it  may  not  have  been 
the  purpose  and  intention  of  the  master  and  owner  to  kill  the  slave. 

Simeon  Souther  was  indicted  at  the  October  Term,  1850,  of 
the  Circuit  Court  for  the  County  of  Hanover,  for  the  murder 
of  his  own  slave.  The  indictment  contained  fifteen  counts,  in 
which  the  various  modes  of  punishment  and  torture  by  which 
the  homicide  was  charged  to  have  been  committed  were  stated 
singly,  and  in  various  combinations.  The  fifteenth  count  unites 
them  all ;  and,  as  the  court  certifies  that  the  indictment  was  sus 
tained  by  the  evidence,  the  giving  the  facts  stated  in  that  count 
will  show  what  was  the  charge  against  the  prisoner,  and  what 
was  the  proof  to  sustain  it. 

The  count  charged  that  on  the  1st  day  of  September,  1849, 
the  prisoner  tied  his  negro  slave,  Sam,  with  ropes  about  his 
wrists,  neck,  body,  legs,  and  ankles,  to  a  tree.  That  whilst  so 
tied,  the  prisoner  first  whipped  the  slave  with  switches.  That 
he  next  beat  and  cobbed  the  slave  with  a  shingle,  and  compelled 


314  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

two  of  his  slaves,  a  man  and  a  woman,  also  to  cob  the  deceased 
with  the  shingle.  That  whilst  the  deceased  was  so  tied  to  the 
tree,  the  prisoner  did  strike,  knock,  kick,  stamp,  and  beat  him 
upon  various  parts  of  his  head,  face,  and  body;  that  he  ap 
plied  fire  to  his  body  ;  .  .  .  that  he  then  washed  his  body  with 
warm  water,  in  which  pods  of  red  pepper  had  been  put  and 
steeped ;  and  he  compelled  his  two  slaves  aforesaid  also  to  wash 
him  with  this  same  preparation  of  warm  water  and  red  pepper. 
That  after  the  tying,  whipping,  cobbing,  striking,  beating, 
knocking,  kicking,  stamping,  wounding,  bruising,  lacerating, 
burning,  washing,  and  torturing,  as  aforesaid,  the  prisoner 
untied  the  deceased  from  the  tree  in  such  way  as  to  throw  him 
with  violence  to  the  ground ;  and  he  then  and  there  did  knock, 
kick,  stamp,  and  beat  the  deceased  upon  his  head,  temples,  and 
various  parts  of  his  body.  That  the  prisoner  then  had  the 
deceased  carried  into  a  shed-room  of  his  house,  and  there  he 
compelled  one  of  his  slaves,  in  his  presence,  to  confine  the  de 
ceased's  feet  in  stocks,  by  making  his  legs  fast  to  a  piece  of 
timber,  and  to  tie  a  rope  about  the  neck  of  the  deceased,  and 
fasten  it  to  a  bedpost  in  the  room,  thereby  strangling,  choking, 
and  suffocating  the  deceased.  And  that  whilst  the  deceased 
was  thus  made  fast  in  stocks  as  aforesaid,  the  prisoner  did  kick, 
knock,  stamp,  and  beat  him  upon  his  head,  face,  breast,  belly, 
sides,  back,  and  body ;  and  he  again  compelled  his  two  slaves  to 
apply  fire  to  the  body  of  the  deceased,  whilst  he  was  so  made 
fast  as  aforesaid.  And  the  count  charged  that  from  these 
various  modes  of  punishment  and  torture  the  slave  Sam  then 
and  there  died.  It  appeared  that  the  prisoner  commenced  the 
punishment  of  the  deceased  in  the  morning,  and  that  it  was 
continued  throughout  the  day  :  and  that  the  deceased  died  in 
the  presence  of  the  prisoner,  and  one  of  his  slaves,  and  one  of 
the  witnesses,  whilst  the  punishment  was  still  progressing. 

Field,  J.,  delivered  the  opinion  of  the  court. 

The  prisoner  was  indicted  and  convicted  of  murder  in  the 
second  degree,  in  the  Circuit  Court  of  Hanover,  at  its  April 
term  last  past,  and  was  sentenced  to  the  penitentiary  for  Jive 
years,  the  period  of  time  ascertained  by  the  jury.  The  murder 
consisted  in  the  killing  of  a  negro  man-slave  by  the  name  of 
Sam,  the  property  of  the  prisoner,  by  cruel  and  excessive  whip 
ping  and  torture,  inflicted  by  Souther,  aided  by  two  of  his  other 
slaves,  on  the  1st  day  of  September,  1849.  The  prisoner  moved 
for  a  new  trial,  upon  the  ground  that  the  offense,  if  any, 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  315 

amounted  only  to  manslaughter.  The  motion  for  a  new  trial 
was  overruled,  and  a  bill  of  exceptions  taken  to  the  opinion  of 
the  court,  setting  forth  the  facts  proved,  or  as  many  of  them  as 
were  deemed  material  for  the  consideration  of  the  application 
for  a  new  trial.  The  bill  of  exception  states :  That  the  slave 
Sam,  in  the  indictment  mentioned,  was  the  slave  and  property 
of  the  prisoner.  That  for  the  purpose  of  chastising  the  slave 
for  the  offense  of  getting  drunk,  and  dealing  as  the  slave  con 
fessed  and  alleged  with  Henry  and  Stone,  two  of  the  witnesses 
for  the  Commonwealth,  he  caused  him  to  be  tied  and  punished 
in  the  presence  of  the  said  witnesses,  with  the  exception  of 
slight  whipping  with  peach  or  apple-tree  switches,  before  the 
said  witnesses  arrived  at  the  scene  after  they  were  sent  for  by 
the  prisoner  (who  were  present  by  request  from  the  defendant), 
and  of  several  slaves  of  the  prisoner,  in  the  manner  and  by  the 
means  charged  in  the  indictment ;  and  the  said  slave  died  under 
and  from  the  infliction  of  the  said  punishment,  in  the  presence 
of  the  prisoner,  one  of  his  slaves,  and  of  one  of  the  witnesses 
for  the  Commonwealth.  But  it  did  not  appear  that  it  was  the 
design  of  the  prisoner  to  kill  the  said  slave,  unless  such  design 
be  properly  inferable  from  the  manner,  means,  and  duration  of 
the  punishment.  And,  on  the  contrary,  it  did  appear  that  the 
prisoner  frequently  declared,  while  the  said  slave  was  undergo 
ing  the  punishment,  that  he  believed  the  said  slave  was  feign 
ing,  and  pretending  to  be  suffering  and  injured  when  he  was 
not.  The  judge  certifies  that  the  slave  was  punished  in  the 
manner  and  by  the  means  charged  in  the  indictment.  The  indict 
ment  contains  fifteen  counts,  and  sets  forth  a  case  of  the  most 
cruel  and  excessive  whipping  and  torture. 

It  is  believed  that  the  records  of  criminal  jurisprudence  do 
not  contain  a  case  of  more  atrocious  and  wicked  cruelty  than 
was  presented  upon  the  trial  of  Souther  ;  and  yet  it  has  been 
gravely  and  earnestly  contended  here  by  his  counsel  that  his 
offense  amounts  to  manslaughter  only. 

It  has  been  contended  by  the  counsel  of  the  prisoner  that  a 
man  cannot  be  indicted  and  prosecuted  for  the  cruel  and  exces 
sive  whipping  of  his  own  slave.  That  it  is  lawful  for  the  mas 
ter  to  chastise  his  slave,  and  that  if  death  ensues  from  such 
chastisement,  unless  it  was  intended  to  produce  death,  it  is  like 
the  case  of  homicide  which  is  committed  by  a  man  in  the  per 
formance  of  a  lawful  act,  which  is  manslaughter  only.  It  has 


316  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

been  decided  by  this  court  in  Turner's  case,  5  Rand,  that  the 
owner  of  a  slave,  for  the  malicious,  cruel,  and  excessive  beating 
of  his  own  slave,  cannot  be  indicted ;  yet  it  by  no  means  fol 
lows,  when  such  malicious,  cruel,  and  excessive  beating  results 
in  death,  though  not  intended  and  premeditated,  that  the  beat 
ing  is  to  be  regarded  as  lawful  for  the  purpose  of  reducing  the 
crime  to  manslaughter,  when  the  whipping  is  inflicted  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  chastisement.  It  is  the  policy  of  the  law,  in  re 
spect  to  the  relation  of  master  and  slave,  and  for  the  sake  of  secur 
ing  proper  subordination  and  obedience  on  the  part  of  the  slave,  to 
protect  the  master  from  prosecution  in  all  such  cases,  even  if  the 
whipping  and  punishment  be  malicious,  cruel,  and  excessive.  But 
in  so  inflicting  punishment  for  the  sake  of  punishment,  the 
owner  of  the  slave  acts  at  his  peril ;  and  if  death  ensues  in  con 
sequence  of  such  punishment,  the  relation  of  master  and  slave 
affords  no  ground  of  excuse  or  palliation.  The  principles  of 
the  common  law,  in  relation  to  homicide,  apply  to  his  case 
without  qualification  or  exception ;  and  according  to  those 
principles,  the  act  of  the  prisoner,  in  the  case  under  considera 
tion,  amounted  to  murder.  .  .  .  The  crime  of  the  prisoner  is 
not  manslaughter,  but  murder  in  the  first  degree. 

On  the  case  now  presented  there  are  some  remarks  to  be 
made. 

This  scene  of  torture,  it  seems,  occupied  about  twelve 
hours.  It  occurred  in  the  State  of  Virginia,  in  the  County 
of  Hanover.  Two  white  men  were  witnesses  to  nearly  the 
whole  proceeding,  and,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  made  no  effort 
to  arouse  the  neighborhood,  and  bring  in  help  to  stop  the 
outrage.  What  sort  of  an  education,  what  habits  of  thought, 
does  this  presuppose  in  these  men  ? 

The  case  was  brought  to  trial.  It  requires  no  ordinary 
nerve  to  read  over  the  counts  of  this  indictment.  Nobody, 
one  would  suppose,  could  willingly  read  them  twice.  One 
would  think  that  it  would  have  laid  a  cold  hand  of  horror 
on  every  heart ;  —  that  the  community  would  have  risen, 
by  an  universal  sentiment,  to  shake  out  the  man,  as  Paul 
shook  the  viper  from  his  hand.  It  seems,  however,  that 
they  were  quite  self-possessed ;  that  lawyers  calmly  sat,  and 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  317 

examined,  and  cross-examined,  on  particulars  known  before 
only  in  the  records  of  the  Inquisition  ;  that  it  was  "  ably 
and  earnestly  argued "  by  educated,  intelligent,  American 
men,  that  this  catalogue  of  horrors  did  not  amount  to  a 
murder  !  and,  in  the  cool  language  of  legal  precision,  that 
"  the  offense,  IF  ANY,  amounted  to  manslaughter  ;  "  and 
that  an  American  jury  found  that  the  offence  was  murder 
in  the  second  degree.  Any  one  who  reads  the  indictment 
will  certainly  think  that,  if  this  be  murder  in  the  second 
degree,  in  Virginia,  one  might  earnestly  pray  to  be  mur 
dered  in  the  first  degree,  to  begin  with.  Had  Souther 
walked  up  to  the  man,  and  shot  him  through  the  head  with 
a  pistol,  before  white  witnesses,  that  would  have  been  mur 
der  in  the  first  degree.  As  he  preferred  to  spend  twelve 
hours  in  killing  him  by  torture,  under  the  name  of  "  chas 
tisement"  that,  says  the  verdict,  is  murder  in  the  second 
degree ;  " because"  says  the  bill  of  exceptions,  with  admir 
able  coolness,  "  it  did  not  appear  that  it  was  the  design 
of  the  prisoner  to  kill  the  slave,  UNLESS  SUCH  DESIGN  BE 

PROPERLY  INFERABLE  FROM  THE  MANNER,  MEANS,  AND 
DURATION  OF  THE  PUNISHMENT." 

The  bill  evidently  seems  to  have  a  leaning  to  the  idea 
that  twelve  hours  spent  in  beating,  stamping,  scalding, 
burning,  and  mutilating  a  human  being  might  possibly  be 
considered  as  presumption  of  something  beyond  the  limits 
of  lawful  chastisement.  So  startling  an  opinion,  however, 
is  expressed  cautiously,  and  with  a  becoming  diffidence, 
and  is  balanced  by  the  very  striking  fact,  which  is  also 
quoted  in  this  remarkable  paper,  that  the  prisoner  fre 
quently  declared,  while  the  slave  was  undergoing  the  pun 
ishment,  that  he  believed  the  slave  was  feigning  and  pre 
tending  to  be  suffering,  when  he  was  not.  This  view 
appears  to  have  struck  the  court  as  eminently  probable,  — 
as  going  a  long  way  to  prove  the  propriety  of  Souther's 
intentions,  making  it  at  least  extremely  probable  that  only 
correction  was  intended. 


318  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

It  seems,  also,  that  Souther,  so  far  from  being  crushed 
by  the  united  opinion  of  the  community,  found  those  to 
back  him  who  considered  five  years  in  the  penitentiary  an 
unjust  severity  for  his  crime,  and  hence  the  bill  of  excep 
tions  from  which  we  have  quoted,  and  the  appeal  to  the 
Superior  Court;  and  hence  the  form  in  which  the  case 
stands  in  law-books,  "  Souther  v.  The  Commonwealth." 
Souther  evidently  considers  himself  an  ill-used  man,  and  it 
is  in  this  character  that  he  appears  before  the  Superior 
Court. 

As  yet  there  has  been  no  particular  overflow  of  human 
ity  in  the  treatment  of  the  case.  The  manner  in  which  it 
has  been  discussed  so  far  reminds  one  of  nothing  so  much 
as  of  some  discussions  which  the  reader  may  have  seen 
quoted  from  the  records  of  the  Inquisition,  with  regard  to 
the  propriety  of  roasting  the  feet  of  children  who  have  not 
arrived  at  the  age  of  thirteen  years,  with  a  view  to  eli 
citing  evidence. 

Let  us  now  come  to  the  decision  of  the  Superior  Court, 
which  the  editor  of  the  "  Courier  and  Enquirer  "  thinks  so 
particularly  enlightened  and  humane.  Judge  Field  thinks 
that  the  case  is  a  very  atrocious  one,  and  in  this  respect  he 
seems  to  differ  materially  from  judge,  jury,  and  lawyers,  of 
the  court  below.  Furthermore,  he  doubts  whether  the 
annals  of  jurisprudence  furnish  a  case  of  equal  atrocity, 
wherein  certainly  he  appears  to  be  not  far  wrong ;  and  he 
also  states  unequivocally  the  principle  that  killing  a  slave 
by  torture  under  the  name  of  correction  is  murder  in  the 
first  degree  ;  and  here  too,  certainly,  everybody  will  think 
that  he  is  also  right  5  the  only  wonder  being  that  any  man 
could  ever  have  been  called  to  express  such  an  opinion, 
judicially.  But  he  states  that  awful  principle  of  slave 
laws,  that  the  law  cannot  interfere  with  the  master  for  any 
amount  of  torture'  inflicted  on  his  slave  which  does  not 
result  in  death.  The  decision,  if  it  establishes  anything, 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  319 

establishes  this  principle  quite  as  strongly  as  it  does  the 
other.      Let  us  hear  the  words  of  the  decision  :  — 

"  It  has  been  decided  by  this  court,  in  Turner's  case,  that  the 
owner  of  a  slave,  for  the  malicious,  cruel,  and  excessive  beating 
of  his  own  slave,  cannot  be  indicted.  ...  It  is  the  policy  of 
the  law,  in  respect  to  the  relation  of  master  and  slave,  and  for 
the  sake  of  securing  proper  subordination  and  obedience  on 
the  part  of  the  slave,  to  protect  the  master  from  prosecution 
in  all  such  cases,  even  if  the  whipping  and  punishment  be 
malicious,  cruel,  and  excessive." 

What  follows  as  a  corollary  from,  this  remarkable  decla 
ration  is  this,  —  that  if  the  victim  of  this  twelve  hours'  tor 
ture  had  only  possessed  a  little  stronger  constitution,  and 
had  not  actually  died  under  it,  there  is  no  law  in  Virginia 
by  which  Souther  could  even  have  been  indicted  for  misde 
meanor. 

If  this  is  not  filling  out  the  measure  of  the  language  of 
St.  Clare,  that  "  he  who  goes  the  furthest  and  does  the 
worst  only  uses  within  limits  the  power  which  the  law 
gives  him,"  how  could  this  language  be  verified  ?  Which 
is  "  the  worst"  death  outright,  or  torture  indefinitely  pro 
longed  ?  This  decision,  in  so  many  words,  gives  every 
master  the  power  of  indefinite  torture,  and  takes  from  him 
only  the  power  of  terminating  the  agony  by  merciful  death. 
And  this  is  the  judicial  decision  which  the  "  Courier  and 
Enquirer"  cites  as  a  perfectly  convincing  specimen  of  legal 
humanity.  It  must  be  hoped  that  the  editor  never  read 
the  decision,  else  he  never  would  have  cited  it.  Of  all 
who  knock  at  the  charnel-house  of  legal  precedents,  with 
the  hope  of  disinterring  any  evidence  of  humanity  in  the 
slave  system,  it  may  be  said,  in  the  awful  words  of  the 
Hebrew  poet :  — 

"  He  knoweth  not  that  the  dead  are  there, 
And  that  her  guests  are  in  the  depths  of  hell." 

The  upshot  of  this  case  was,   that  Souther,  instead  of 


320  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

getting  off  from  his  five  years'  imprisonment,  got  simply  a 
judicial  opinion  from  the  Superior  Court  that  he  ought  to 
be  hung ;  but  he  could  not  be  tried  over  again,  and,  as  we 
may  infer  from  all  the  facts  in  the  case  that  he  was  a  man 
of  tolerably  resolute  nerves  and  not  very  exquisite  sensibil 
ity,  it  is  not  likely  that  the  opinion  gave  him  any  very 
serious  uneasiness.  He  has  probably  made  up  his  mind  to 
get  over  his  five  years  with  what  grace  he  may.  When  he 
Comes  out,  there  is  no  law  in  Virginia  to  prevent  his  buy 
ing  as  many  more  negroes  as  he  chooses,  and  going  over 
the  same  scene  with  any  one  of  them  at  a  future  time,  if 
only  he  profit  by  the  information  which  has  been  so  ex 
plicitly  conveyed  to  him  in  this  decision,  that  he  must  take 
care  and  stop  his  tortures  short  of  the  point  of  death, —  a 
matter  about  which,  as  the  history  of  the  Inquisition 
shows,  men,  by  careful  practice,  can  be  able  to  judge  with 
considerable  precision.  Probably,  also,  the  next  time,  he 
will  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  send  out  and  request  the  attend 
ance  of  two  white  witnesses,  even  though  they  may  be  so 
complacently  interested  in  the  proceedings  as  to  spend  the 
whole  day  in  witnessing  them  without  effort  at  prevention. 
Slavery,  as  defined  in  American  law,  is  no  more  capable 
of  being  regulated  in  its  administration  by  principles  of 
humanity,  than  the  torture  system  of  the  Inquisition. 
Every  act  of  humanity  of  every  individual  owner  is  an 
illogical  result  from  the  legal  definition  ;  and  the  reason 
why  the  slave-code  of  America  is  more  atrocious  than  any 
ever  before  exhibited  under  the  sun  is  that  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race  are  a  more  -coldly  and  strictly  logical  race,  and 
have  an  unflinching  courage  to  meet  the  consequences  of 
every  premise  which  they  lay  down,  and  to  work  out  an 
accursed  principle,  with  mathematical  accuracy,  to  its  most 
accursed  results.  The  decisions  in  American  law-books 
show  nothing  so  much  as  this  severe,  unflinching  accuracy 
of  logic.  It  is  often  and  evidently,  not  because  judges  are 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  321 

inhuman  or  partial,  but  because  they  are  logical  and  truth 
ful,  that  they  announce  from  the  bench,  in  the  calmest 
manner,  decisions  which  one  would  think  might  make  the 
earth  shudder,  and  the  sun  turn  pale. 


CHAPTER   IV 

PROTECTIVE    STATUTES 

But  the  question  now  occurs,  Are  there  not  protective 
statutes,  the  avowed  object  of  which  is  the  protection  of 
the  life  and  limb  of  the  slave  ?  We  answer,  there  are  ;  and 
these  protective  statutes  are  some  of  the  most  remarkable 
pieces  of  legislation  extant. 

That  they  were  dictated  by  a  spirit  of  humanity,  charity, 
which  hopeth  all  things,  would  lead  us  to  hope  ;  but  no 
newspaper  stories  of  bloody  murders  and  shocking  outrages 
convey  to  the  mind  so  dreadful  a  picture  of  the  numbness 
of  public  sentiment  caused  by  slavery  as  these  so-called  pro 
tective  statutes.  The  author  copies  the  following  from  the 
statutes  of  North  Carolina.  Section  3d  of  the  act  passed  in 
1798  runs  thus  :  — 

"  Whereas  by  another  Act  of  the  Assembly,  passed  in  1774,  the 
killing  of  a  slave,  however  wanton,  cruel,  and  deliberate,  is  only 
punishable  in  the  first  instance  by  imprisonment  and  paying  the 
value  thereof  to  the  owner,  which  distinction  of  criminality  be 
tween  the  murder  of  a  white  person  and  one  who  is  equally  a 
human  creature,  but  merely  of  a  different  complexion,  is  DIS 
GRACEFUL  TO  HUMANITY,  AND  DEGRADING  IN  THE  HIGHEST 
DEGREE  TO  THE  LAWS  AND  PRINCIPLES  OF  A  FREE,  CHRISTIAN, 

AND  ENLIGHTENED  COUNTRY,  Be  it  enacted,  etc.,  That,  if  any 
person  shall  hereafter  be  guilty  of  willfully  and  maliciously 
killing  a  slave,  such  offender  shall,  upon  the  first  conviction 
thereof,  be  adjudged  guilty  of  murder,  and  shall  suffer  the  same 
punishment  as  if  he  had  killed  a  free  man  :  Provided  always,  this 
act  shall  not  extend  to  the  person  killing  a  slave  OUTLAWED  BY 


322  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

VIRTUE  OF  ANY  ACT    OF    ASSEMBLY  OF    THIS    STATE,  OT  to    any 

slave  in  the  act  of  resistance  to  his  lawful  owner  or  master,  or  to 
any  slave  dying  under  moderate  correction." 

A  law  with  a  like  proviso,  except  the  outlawry  clause, 
exists  in  Tennessee.  See  Caruthers  and  Nicholson's  Com 
pilation,  1836,  p.  676. 

The  language  of  the  Constitution  of  Georgia,  art.  iv.,  sec. 
12,  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  Any  person  who  shall  maliciously  dismember  or  deprive  a 
slave  of  life  shall  suffer  such  punishment  as  would  be  inflicted  in 
case  the  like  offense  had  been  committed  on  a  free  white  person, 
and  on  the  like  proof,  except  in  case  of  insurrection  by  such 
slave,  and  unless  such  death  should  happen  by  accident  in  giving 
such  slave  moderate  correction."  —  CoWs  Dig.  1851,  p.  1125. 

Let  now  any  Englishman  or  New  Englander  imagine 
that  such  laws  with  regard  to  apprentices  had  ever  been 
proposed  in  Parliament  or  State  Legislature  under  the  head 
of  protective  acts  ;  —  laws  which  in  so  many  words  permit 
the  killing  of  the  subject  in  three  cases,  and  those  compris 
ing  all  the  acts  which  would  generally  occur  under  the 
law ;  namely,  if  the  slave  resist,  if  he  be  outlawed,  or  if  he 
die  under  moderate  correction. 

What  rule  in  the  world  will  ever  prove  correction  im 
moderate,  if  the  fact  that  the  subject  dies  under  it  is  not 
held  as  proof  ?  How  many  such  "  accidents  "  would  have 
to  happen  in  Old  England  or  New  England,  before  Parlia 
ment  or  Legislature  would  hear  from  such  a  protective  law  ? 

"But,"  some  one  may  ask,  "what  is  the  outlaiury  spoken 
of  in  this  act  ?  "  The  question  is  pertinent,  and  must  be 
answered.  The  author  has  copied  the  following  from  the  Ee- 
vised  Statutes  of  North  Carolina,  chap,  cxi.,  sec.  22.  It  may 
be  remarked  in  passing  that  the  preamble  to  this  law  pre 
sents  rather  a  new  view  of  slavery  to  those  who  have  formed 
their  ideas  from  certain  pictures  of  blissful  contentment  and 
Arcadian  repose,  which  have  been  much  in  vogue  of  late. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  323 

"  Whereas,  MANY  TIMES  slaves  run  away  and  lie  out,  hid  and 
lurking  in  swamps,  tuoods,  and  other  obscure  places,  killing  cattle 
and  hogs,  and  committing  other  injuries  to  the  inhabitants  of 
this  State  ;  in  all  such  cases,  upon  intelligence  of  any  slave  or 
slaves  lying  out  as  aforesaid,  any  two  justices  of  the  peace  for 
the  county  wherein  such  slave  or  slaves  is  or  are  supposed  to 
lurk  or  do  mischief,  shall,  and  they  are  hereby  empowered  and 
required  to  issue  proclamation  against  such  slave  or  slaves  (re 
citing  his  or  their  names,  and  the  name  or  names  of  the  owner 
or  owners,  if  known),  thereby  requiring  him  or  them,  and  every 
of  them,  forthwith  to  surrender  him  or  themselves ;  and  also  to 
empower  and  require  the  sheriff  of  the  said  county  to  take  such 
power  with  him  as  he  shall  think  fit  and  necessary  for  going  in 
search  and  pursuit  of,  and  effectually  apprehending,  such  out 
lying  slave  or  slaves ;  which  proclamation  shall  be  published 
at  the  door  of  the  court-house,  and  at  such  other  places  as  said 
justices  shall  direct.  And  if  any  slave  or  slaves  against  whom 
proclamation  hath  been  thus  issued  stay  out,  and  do  not  imme 
diately  return  home,  it  shall  be  lawful  for  any  person  or  per 
sons  whatsoever  to  kill  and  destroy  such  slave  or  slaves  by  such 
ways  and  means  as  he  shall  think  Jit,  without  accusation  or  im 
peachment  of  any  crime  for  the  same." 

This  passage  of  the  Revised  Statutes  of  North  Carolina 
is  more  terribly  suggestive  to  the  imagination  than  any 
particulars  into  which  the  author  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  " 
has  thought  fit  to  enter.  Let  us  suppose  a  little  melodrama 
quite  possible  to  have  occurred  under  this  act  of  the  legisla 
ture.  Suppose  some  luckless  Prue  or  Peg,  as  in  the  case 
we  have  just  quoted,  in  State  v.  Mann,  getting  tired  of  the 
discipline  of  whipping,  breaks  from  the  overseer,  clears  the 
dogs,  and  gets  into  the  swamp,  and  there  "  lies  out,"  as  the 
act  above  graphically  says.  The  act  which  we  are  consider 
ing  says  that  many  slaves  do  this,  and  doubtless  they  have 
their  own  best  reasons  for  it.  We  all  know  what  fasci 
nating  places  to  "  lie  out  "  in  these  Southern  swamps  are. 
What  with  alligators  and  moccasin  snakes,  mud  and  water, 
and  poisonous  vines,  one  would  be  apt  to  think  the  situation 
not  particularly  eligible ;  but  still,  Prue  "  lies  out "  there. 


324  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

Perhaps  in  the  night  some  husband  or  brother  goes  to  see 
her,  taking  a  hog,  or  some  animal  of  the  plantation  stock, 
which  he  has  ventured  his  life  in  killing,  that  she  may  not 
perish  with  hunger.  Master  overseer  walks  up  to  master 
proprietor,  and  reports  the  accident;  master  proprietor 
mounts  his  horse,  and  assembles  to  his  aid  two  justices  of 
the  peace. 

In  the  intervals  between  drinking  brandy  and  smoking 
cigars  a  proclamation  is  duly  drawn  up,  summoning  the 
contumacious  Prue  to  surrender,  and  requiring  the  sheriff  of 
said  county  to  take  such  power  as  he  shall  think  fit,  to  go 
in  search  and  pursuit  of  said  slave  j  which  proclamation,  for 
Prue's  further  enlightenment,  is  solemnly  published  at  the 
door  of  the  court-house,  and  "  at  such  other  places  as  said 
justices  shall  direct."  Let  us  suppose,  now,  that  Prue, 
given  over  to  hardness  of  heart  and  blindness  of  mind,  pays 
no  attention  to  all  these  means  of  grace,  put  forth  to  draw 
her  to  the  protective  shadow  of  the  patriarchal  roof.  Sup 
pose,  further,  as  a  final  effort  of  long-suffering,  and  to  leave 
her  utterly  without  excuse,  the  worthy  magistrate  rides 
forth  in  full  force,  —  man,  horse,  dog,  and  gun,  —  to  the 
very  verge  of  the  swamp,  and  there  proclaims  aloud  the 
merciful  mandate.  Suppose  that,  hearing  the  yelping  of 
the  dogs  and  the  proclamation  of  the  sheriff  mingled  to 
gether,  and  the  shouts  of  Loker,  Marks,  Sambo,  and  Quimbo, 
and  other  such  posse,  black  and  white,  as  a  sheriff  can  gen 
erally  summon  on  such  a  hunt,  this  very  ignorant  and  contu 
macious  Prue  only  runs  deeper  into  the  swamp,  and  continues 
obstinately  "  lying  out,"  as  aforesaid  ;  —  now  she  is  by  act 

1  The  old  statute  of  1741  had  some  features  still  more  edifying.  That 
provides  that  said  "  proclamation  shall  be  published  on  a  Sabbath  day,  at 
the  door  of  every  church  or  chapel,  or,  for  want  of  such,  at  the  place  where 
divine  service  shall  be  performed  in  the  said  county,  by  the  parish  clerk  or 
reader,  immediately  after  divine  service."  Potter's  Revuai,  i.  166.  What 
a  peculiar  appropriateness  there  must  have  been  in  this  proclamation,  par 
ticularly  after  a  sermon  on  the  love  of  Christ,  or  an  exposition  of  the 
text  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself"  ! 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  325 

of  the  assembly  outlaived,  and,  in  the  astounding  words  of 
the  act,  "  it  shall  be  lawful  for  any  person  or  persons  what 
soever  to  kill  and  destroy  her,  by  such  ways  and  means  as 
he  shall  think  fit,  without  accusation  or  impeachment  of  any 
crime  for  the  same."  What  awful  possibilities  rise  to  the 
imagination  under  the  fearfully  suggestive  clause  "  by  such 
ways  and  means  as  he  shall  think  fit !  "  Such  ways  and 
means  as  ANY  man  shall  think  fit,  of  any  character,  of  any 
degree  of  fiendish  barbarity  !  !  Such  a  permission,  to  kill 
even  a  dog,  by  "  any  ways  and  means  which  anybody  should 
think  fit,"  never  ought  to  stand  on  the  law-books  of  a 
Christian  nation  ;  and  yet  this  stands  against  one  bearing 
that  same  humanity  which  Jesus  Christ  bore,  —  against  one 
perhaps,  who,  though  blinded,  darkened,  and  ignorant,  He 
will  not  be  ashamed  to  own,  when  He  shall  come  in  the 
glory  of  his  Father,  and  all  his  holy  angels  with  Him ! 

There  is  evidence  that  this  act  of  outlawry  was  executed 
so  recently  as  the  year  1850,  —  the  year  in  which  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin "  was  written.  See  the  following  from  the 
"  Wilmington  Journal,"  of  December  13,  1850  :  — 

STATE  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA,  NEW  HANOVER  COUNTY. — 

Whereas  complaint  upon  oath  hath  this  day  been  made  to  us, 
two  of  the  justices  of  the  peace  for  the  said  State  and  county 
aforesaid,  by  Guilford  Horn,  of  Edgecombe  County,  that  a 
certain  male  slave  belonging  to  him,  named  Harry,  a  carpenter 
by  trade,  about  forty  years  old,  five  feet  five  inches  high,  or 
thereabouts;  yellow  complexion;  stout  built;  with  a  scar  on 
his  left  leg  (from  the  cut  of  an  axe)  ;  has  very  thick  lips ;  eyes 
deep  sunk  in  his  head ;  forehead  very  square ;  tolerably  loud 
voice ;  has  lost  one  or  two  of  his  upper  teeth ;  and  has  a  very 
dark  spot  on  his  jaw,  supposed  to  be  a  mark,  —  hath  absented 
himself  from  his  master's  service,  and  is  supposed  to  be  lurking 
about  in  this  county,  committing  acts  of  felony  or  other  mis 
deeds  ;  these  are,  therefore,  in  the  name  of  the  State  aforesaid, 
to  command  the  said  slave  forthwith  to  surrender  himself  and 
return  home  to  his  said  master  ;  and  we  do  hereby,  by  virtue  of 


326  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

the  act  of  assembly  in  such  cases  made  and  provided,  intimate 
and  declare  that  if  the  said  slave  Harry  doth  not  surrender 
himself  and  return  home  immediately  after  the  publication 
of  these  presents,  that  any  person  or  persons  may  KILL  and 
DESTROY  the  said  slave  by  such  means  as  he  or  they  may  think 
fit,  without  accusation  or  impeachment  of  any  crime  or  offense 
for  so  doing,  and  without  incurring  any  penalty  or  forfeiture 
thereby. 

Given  under  our  hands  and  seals,  this  29th  day  of  June,  1850. 
JAMES  T.  MILLER,  J.  P.        [Seal.] 
W.  C.  BETTENCOURT,  J.  P.  [Seal.] 


ONE  HUNDRED  AND  TWENTY-FIVE  DOLLARS  REWARD  will 
be  paid  for  the  delivery  of  the  said  Harry  to  me  at  Tosnott 
Depot,  Edgecombe  County,  or  for  his  confinement  in  any  jail 
in  the  State,  so  that  I  can  get  him ;  or  One  Hundred  and  Fifty 
Dollars  will  be  given  for  his  head. 

He  was  lately  heard  from  in  Newbern,  where  he  called  him 
self  Henry  Barnes  (or  Burns),  and  will  be  likely  to  continue 
the  same  name,  or  assume  that  of  Copage  or  Farmer.  He  has 
a  free  mulatto  woman  for  a  wife,  by  the  name  of  Sally  Bozeman, 
who  has  lately  removed  to  Wilmington,  and  lives  in  that  part 
of  the  town  called  Texas,  where  he  will  likely  be  lurking. 

Masters  of  vessels  are  particularly  cautioned  against  harbor 
ing  or  concealing  the  said  negro  on  board  their  vessels,  as  the 
full  penalty  of  the  law  will  be  rigorously  enforced. 

GUILFORD  HORN. 

June  29th,  1850. 

There  is  an  inkling  of  history  and  romance  about  the 
description  of  this  same  Harry,  who  is  thus  publicly  set  up 
to  be  killed  in  any  way  that  any  of  the  negro-hunters  of  the 
swamps  may  think  the  most  piquant  and  enlivening.  It 
seems  he  is  a  carpenter,  —  a  powerfully  made  man,  whose 
thews  and  sinews  might  be  a  profitable  acquisition  to  him 
self.  It  appears  also  that  he  has  a  wife,  and  the  advertiser 
intimates  that  possibly  he  may  be  caught  prowling  about 
somewhere  in  her  vicinity.  This  indicates  sagacity  in  the 
writer,  certainly.  Married  men  generally  have  a  way  of 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  327 

liking  the  society  of  their  wives ;  and  it  strikes  us,  from 
what  we  know  of  the  nature  of  carpenters  here  in  New 
England,  that  Harry  was  not  peculiar  in  this  respect.  Let 
us  further  notice  the  portrait  of  Harry :  "  Eyes  deep  sunk 
in  his  head; — forehead  very  square."  This  picture 
reminds  us  of  what  a  persecuting  old  ecclesiastic  once  said, 
in  the  days  of  the  Port  Royalists,  of  a  certain  truculent 
abbess,  who  stood  obstinately  to  a  certain  course,  in  the  face 
of  the  whole  power,  temporal  and  spiritual,  of  the  Romish 
church,  in  spite  of  fining,  imprisoning,  starving,  whipping, 
beating,  and  other  enlightening  argumentative  processes,  not 
wholly  peculiar,  it  seems,  to  that  age.  "You  will  never 
subdue  that  woman,"  said  the  ecclesiastic,  who  was  a  phre 
nologist  before  his  age ;  "  she  's  got  a  square  head,  and  I 
have  always  noticed  that  people  with  square  heads  never 
can  be  turned  out  of  their  course.'7  We  think  it  very 
probable  that  Harry,  with  his  "  square  head,"  is  just  one  of 
this  sort.  He  is  probably  one  of  those  articles  which  would 
be  extremely  valuable,  if  the  owner  could  only  get  the  use 
of  him.  His  head  is  well  enough,  but  he  will  use  it  for 
himself.  It  is  of  no  use  to  any  one  but  the  wearer  ;  and 
the  master  seems  to  symbolize  this  state  of  things,  by  offer 
ing  twenty-five  dollars  more  for  the  head  without  the  body, 
than  he  is  willing  to  give  for  head,  man,  and  all.  Poor 
Harry  !  We  wonder  whether  they  have  caught  him  yet ; 
or  whether  the  impenetrable  thickets,  the  poisonous  miasma, 
the  deadly  snakes,  and  the  unwieldy  alligators  of  the  swamps, 
more  humane  than  the  slave-hunter,  have  interposed  their 
uncouth  and  loathsome  forms  to  guard  the  only  fastness  in 
Carolina  where  a  slave  can  live  in  freedom. 


328  A   KEY  TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 


CHAPTER  V 

PROTECTIVE    ACTS    OF    SOUTH   CAROLINA   AND   LOUISIANA. 
—  THE     IRON     COLLAR      OF      LOUISIANA     AND      NORTH 
CAROLINA. 

Thus  far  by  way  of  considering  the  protective  acts  of 
North  Carolina,  Georgia,  and  Tennessee.  Certain  miscel 
laneous  protective  acts  of  various  other  States  will  now 
be  cited,  merely  as  specimens  of  the  spirit  of  legislation. 

In  South  Carolina,  the  act  of  1740  punished  the  willful, 
deliberate  murder  of  a  slave  by  disfranchisement,  and  by  a 
fine  of  seven  hundred  pounds  current  money,  or,  in  default 
of  payment,  imprisonment  for  seven  years.1  But  the  willful 
murder  of  a  slave,  in  the  sense  contemplated  in  this  law,  is 
a  crime  which  would  not  often  occur.  The  kind  of  murder 
which  was  most  frequent  among  masters  or  overseers  was 
guarded  against  by  another  section  of  the  same  act,  —  how 
adequately  the  reader  will  judge  for  himself,  from  the 
following  quotation  :  — 

"  If  any  person  shall,  on  a  sudden  heat  or  passion,  or  by  undue 
correction,  kill  his  own  slave,  or  the  slave  of  any  other  person, 
he  shall  forfeit  the  sum  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  current 
money."  2 

In  1821  the  act  punishing  the  willful  murder  of  the  slave 
only  with  fine  or  imprisonment  was  mainly  repealed,  and  it 
was  enacted  that  such  crime  should  be  punished  by  death  ; 
but  the  latter  section,  which  relates  to  killing  the  slave  in 
sudden  heat  or  passion,  or  by  undue  correction,  has  been 
altered  only  by  diminishing  the  pecuniary  penalty  to  a  fine 
of  five  hundred  dollars,  authorizing  also  imprisonment  for 
six  months. 

1  Stroud,  p.  39.    2  Brevard's  Digest,  p.  241. 

2  Stroud's  Sketch,  p.  40.     2  Brevard's  Digest,  241.     James's  Digest, 
392. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  329 

The  next  protective  statute  to  be  noticed  is  the  following 
from  the  act  of  1740,  South  Carolina  :  - 

"  In  case  any  person  shall  willfully  cut  out  the  tongue,  put  out 
the  eye,  ...  or  cruelly  scald,  burn,  or  deprive  any  slave  of  any 
limb,  or  member,  or  shall  inflict  any  other  cruel  punishment, 
other  than  by  whipping  or  beating  with  a  horsewhip,  cowskin, 
switch,  or  small  stick,  or  by  putting  irons  on,  or  confining 
or  imprisoning  such  slave,  every  such  person  shall,  for  every 
such  offense,  forfeit  the  sum  of  one  hundred  pounds,  current 
money."  1 

The  language  of  this  law,  like  many  other^of  these  pro 
tective  enactments,  is  exceedingly  suggestive ;  the  first  sug 
gestion  that  occurs  is,  What  sort  of  an  institution,  and  what 
sort  of  a  state  of  society  is  it,  that  called  out  a  law  worded 
like  this  ?  Laws  are  generally  not  made  against  practices 
that  do  not  exist,  and  exist  with  some  degree  of  frequency. 

But  let  us  look  further :  What  is  to  be  the  penalty 
when  any  of  these  fiendish  things  are  done  ?  Why,  the 
man  forfeits  a  hundred  pounds,  current  money.  Surely  he 
ought  to  pay  as  much  as  that  for  doing  so  very  unnecessary 
an  act,  when  the  Legislature  bountifully  allows  him  to 
inflict  any  torture  which  revengeful  ingenuity  could  devise, 
by  means  of  horsewhip,  cowhide,  switch,  or  small  stick,  or 
putting  irons  on,  or  confining  and  imprisoning.  One  would 
surely  think  that  here  was  sufficient  scope  and  variety  of 
legalized  means  of  torture  to  satisfy  any  ordinary  appetite 
for  vengeance.  It  would  appear  decidedly  that  any  more 
piquant  varieties  of  agony  ought  to  be  an  extra  charge. 
The  advocates  of  slavery  are  fond  of  comparing  the  situation 
of  the  slave  with  that  of  the  English  laborer.  We  are  not 
aware  that  the  English  laborer  has  been  so  unfortunate  as 
to  be  protected  by  any  enactment  like  this,  since  the  days 
of  villeinage. 

1  Stroud,  p.  40.    2  Brevard's  Digest,  241. 


330  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

Now,  compare  this  other  statute  of  Louisiana  (Rev. 
Stat.,  1852,  p.  552,  §  151)  :  - 

"  If  any  person  or  persons,  etc.,  shall  cut  or  break  any  iron  chain 
or  collar,  which  any  master  of  slaves  should  have  used,  in  order 
to  prevent  the  running  away  or  escape  of  any  such  slave  or 
slaves,  such  person  or  persons  so  offending  shall,  on  conviction, 
etc.,  be  fined  not  less  than  two  hundred  dollars,  nor  exceeding 
one  thousand  dollars  ;  and  suffer  imprisonment  for  a  term  not 
exceeding  two  years,  nor  less  than  six  months." 1  —  Act  of  Assem 
bly  of  March  6,  1819.  Pamphlet,  page  64. 

Some  Englishmen  may  naturally  ask,  "  What  is  this  iron 
collar  which  the  Legislature  have  thought  worthy  of  being 
protected  by  a  special  act  ?  "  On  this  subject  will  be  pre 
sented  the  testimony  of  an  unimpeachable  witness,  Miss 
Sarah  M.  Grimke,  a  personal  friend  of  the  author.  "  Miss 
Grimke  is  a  daughter  of  the  late  Judge  Grimke,  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  South  Carolina,  and  sister  of  the  late 
Hon.  Thomas  S.  Grimke."  She  is  now  a  member  of  the 
Society  of  Friends,  and  resides  in  Bellville,  New  Jersey. 
The  statement  given  is  of  a  kind  that  its  author  did  not 
mean  to  give,  nor  wish  to  give,  and  never  would  have  given, 
had  it  not  been  made  necessary  to  illustrate  this  passage  in 
the  slave  law.  The  account  occurs  in  a  statement  which 
Miss  Grimke'  furnished  to  her  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Weld, 
and  has  been  before  the  public  ever  since  1839,  in  his  work 
entitled  "  Slavery  as  It  Is,"  p.  22. 

"  A  handsome  mulatto  woman,  about  eighteen  or  twenty  years 
of  age,  whose  independent  spirit  could  not  brook  the  degrada 
tion  of  slavery,  was  in  the  habit  of  running  away :  for  this 
offense  she  had  been  repeatedly  sent  by  her  master  and  mistress 
to  be  whipped  by  the  keeper  of  the  Charleston  work-house. 
This  had  been  done  with  such  inhuman  severity  as  to  lacerate 
her  back  in  a  most  shocking  manner  ;  a  finger  could  not  be  laid 
between  the  cuts.  But  the  love  of  liberty  was  too  strong  to  be 
annihilated  by  torture ;  and,  as  a  last  resort,  she  was  whipped 
at  several  different  times,  and  kept  a  close  prisoner.  A  heavy 

i  Stroud,  p.  13. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  33 1 

iron  collar,  with  three  long  prongs  projecting  from  it,  was 
placed  round  her  neck,  and  a  strong  and  sound  front  tooth  was 
extracted,  to  serve  as  a  mark  to  describe  her,  in  case  of  escape. 
Her  sufferings  at  this  time  were  agonizing  ;  she  could  lie  in  no 
position  but  on  her  back,  which  was  sore  from  scourgings,  as  I 
can  testify  from  personal  inspection  ;  and  her  only  place  of  rest 
was  the  floor,  on  a  blanket.  These  outrages  were  committed  in 
a  family  where  the  mistress  daily  read  the  Scriptures,  and  as 
sembled  her  children  for  family  worship.  She  was  accounted, 
and  was  really,  so  far  as  almsgiving  was  concerned,  a  charitable 
woman,  and  tender-hearted  to  the  poor ;  and  yet  this  suffering 
slave,  who  was  the  seamstress  of  the  family,  was  continually  in 
her  presence,  sitting  in  her  chamber  to  sew,  or  engaged  in  her 
other  household^  work,  with  her  lacerated  and  bleeding  back, 
her  mutilated  mouth,  and  heavy  iron  collar,  without,  so  far  as 
appeared,  exciting  any  feelings  of  compassion." 

This  iron  collar  the  author  has  often  heard  of  from 
sources  equally  authentic.1  That  one  will  meet  with  it 
every  day  in  walking  the  streets  is  not  probable  ;  but  that 
it  must  have  been  used  with  some  great  degree  of  frequency 
is  evident  from  the  fact  of  a  law  being  thought  necessary 
to  protect  it.  But  look  at  the  penalty  of  the  two  protective 
laws  !  The  fiendish  cruelties  described  in  the  act  of  South 
Carolina  cost  the  perpetrator  not  more  than  five  hundred 
dollars,  if  he  does  them  before  white  people.  The  act  of 
humanity  costs  from  two  hundred  to  one  thousand  dollars, 
and  imprisonment  from  six  months  or  two  years,  according 
to  discretion  of  court !  What  public  sentiment  was  it  which 
made  these  laws  ? 

1  The  iron  collar  was  also  in  vogue  in  North  Carolina,  as  the  following 
extract  from  the  statute-book  will  show.  The  wearers  of  this  article  of 
apparel  certainly  have  some  reason  to  complain  of  the  "  tyranny  of  fash 
ion." 

"  When  the  keeper  of  the  said  public  jail  shall,  by  direction  of  such 
court  as  aforesaid,  let  out  any  negro  or  runaway  to  hire,  to  any  person  or 
persons  whomsoever,  the  said  keeper  shall,  at  the  time  of  his  delivery, 
cause  an  iron  collar  to  be  put  on  the  neck  of  such  negro  or  runawav,  with 
the  letters  P.  G.  stamped  thereon  ;  and  thereafter  the  said  keeper  shall 
not  be  answerable  for  any  escape  of  the  said  negro  or  runaway."  — Potter's 
JRevisal,  i.  162. 


332  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

CHAPTER  VI 

PROTECTIVE    ACTS  WITH  REGARD  TO  FOOD  AND  RAIMENT, 
LABOR,   ETC. 

Having  finished  the  consideration  of  the  laws  which  pro 
tect  the  life  and  limb  of  the  slave,  the  reader  may  feel  a 
curiosity  to  know  something  of  the  provisions  by  which 
he  is  protected  in  regard  to  food  and  clothing,  and  from 
the  exactions  of  excessive  labor.  It  is  true,  there  are  mul 
titudes  of  men  in  the  Northern  States  who  would  say,  at 
once,  that  such  enactments,  on  the  very  face  of  them,  must 
be  superfluous  and  absurd.  "  What  !  "  they  say,  "  are  not 
the  slaves  property  ?  and  is  it  likely  that  any  man  will 
impair  the  market  value  of  his  own  property  by  not  giving 
them  sufficient  food  or  clothing,  or  by  overworking  them  ?  " 
This  process  of  reasoning  appears  to  have  been  less  convinc 
ing  to  the  legislators  of  Southern  States  than  to  gentlemen 
generally  at  the  North ;  since,  as  Judge  Taylor  says,  "  the 
act  of  1786  l  (Iredell's  Revisal,  p.  588)  does,  in  the  pream 
ble,  recognize  the  fact  that  many  persons,  by  cruel  treat 
ment  of  their  slaves,  cause  them  to  commit  crimes  for  which 
they  are  executed  ;  "  and  the  judge  further  explains  this 
language,  by  saying,  "  The  cruel  treatment  here  alluded  to 
must  consist  in  withholding  from  them  the  necessaries  of 
life  ;  and  the  crimes  thus  resulting  are  such  as  are  necessary 
to  furnish  them  with  food  and  raiment. " 

The  State  of  South  Carolina,  in  the  act  of  1740  (see  Stroud's 
Sketch,  p.  28),  had  a  section  with  the  following  language 
in  its  preamble  :  — 

"  Whereas  many  owners  of  slaves,  and  others  who  have  the  care, 
management,  and  overseeing  of  slaves,  do  confine  them  so  closely 
to  hard  labor  that  they  have  not  sufficient  time  for  natural  rest."  2 

1  Wheeler,  p.  220.     State  v.  Sue,  Cameron  &  Norwood's  C.  Rep.  54. 

2  Stroud,  p.  29. 


A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  333 

And  the  law  goes  on  to  enact  that  the  slave  shall  not 
work  more  than  fifteen  hours  a  day  in  summer,  and  fourteen 
in  winter.  Judge  Stroud  makes  it  appear  that  in  three  of 
the  slave  States  the  time  allotted  for  work  to  convicts  in 
prison,  whose  punishment  is  to  consist  in  hard  labor,  cannot 
exceed  ten  hours,  even  in  the  summer  months. 

This  was  the  protective  act  of  South  Carolina,  designed 
to  reform  the  abusive  practices  of  masters  who  confined  their 
slaves  so  closely  that  they  had  not  time  for  natural  rest ! 
What  sort  of  habits  of  thought  do  these  humane  provisions 
show,  in  the  makers  of  them  ?  In  order  to  protect  the 
slave  from  what  they  consider  undue  exaction,  they  hu 
manely  provide  that  he  shall  be  obliged  to  work  only  four 
or  five  hours  longer  than  the  convicts  in  the  prison  of  the 
neighboring  State  !  In  the  Island  of  Jamaica,  besides  many 
holidays  which  were  accorded  by  law  to  the  slave,  ten  hours 
a  day  was  the  extent  to  which  he  was  compelled  by  law 
ordinarily  to  work. 

With  regard  to  overseers,  a  description  of  this  class  of  be 
ings  is  furnished  by  Mr.  Wirt,  in  his  Life  of  Patrick  Henry, 
page  34.  "  Last  and  lowest,"  he  says  [of  different  classes 
in  society],  "  a  feculum  of  beings  called  overseers,  —  a  most 
abject,  degraded,  unprincipled  race."  Now,  suppose,  while 
the  master  is  in  Charleston,  enjoying  literary  leisure,  the 
slaves  on  some  Bellemont  or  other  plantation,  getting  tired 
of  being  hungry  and  cold,  form  themselves  into  a  committee 
of  the  whole,  to  see  what  is  to  be  done.  A  broad-shoul 
dered,  courageous  fellow,  whom  we  can  call  Tom,  declares 
it  is  too  bad,  and  he  won't  stand  it  any  longer  ;  and,  having 
by  some  means  become  acquainted  with  this  benevolent  pro 
tective  act,  resolves  to  make  an  appeal  to  the  horns  of  this 
legislative  altar.  Tom  talks  stoutly,  having  just  been 
bought  on  to  the  place,  and  been  used  to  better  quarters 
elsewhere.  The  women  and  children  perhaps  admire,  but 


334  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

the  venerable  elders  of  the  plantation,  —  Sambo,  Cudge, 
Pomp,  and  old  Aunt  Dinah,  —  tell  him  he  better  mind  him 
self,  and  keep  clar  o'  dat  ar.  Tom,  being  young  and  pro 
gressive,  does  not  regard  these  conservative  maxims  ;  he  is 
determined  that,  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  justice  to  be  got, 
he  will  have  it.  After  considerable  research,  he  finds  some 
white  man  in  the  neighborhood  verdant  enough  to  enter  the 
complaint  for  him.  Master  Legree  finds  himself,  one  sun 
shiny,  pleasant  morning,  walked  off  to  some  Justice  Dog 
berry's,  to  answer  to  the  charge  of  not  giving  his  niggers 
enough  to  eat  and  wear.  We  will  call  the  infatuated  white 
man  who  has  undertaken  this  fool's  errand,  Master  Shallow. 
Let  us  imagine  a  scene  :  Legree,  standing  carelessly  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  rolling  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his 
mouth ;  Justice  Dogberry,  seated  in  all  the  majesty  of  law, 
reinforced  by  a  decanter  of  whiskey  and  some  tumblers,  in 
tended  to  assist  in  illuminating  the  intellect  in  such  obscure 


Justice  Dogberry.  Come,  gentlemen,  take  a  little  some 
thing  to  begin  with.  Mr.  Legree,  sit  down  ;  sit  down, 
Mr.  —  a'  what  's-your-name  ?  —  Mr.  Shallow. 

Mr.  Legree  and  Mr.  Shallow  each  sit  down,  and  take 
their  tumbler  of  whiskey  and  water.  After  some  little  con 
versation,  the  justice  introduces  the  business  as  follows  :  — 

"  Now,  about  this  nigger  business.  Gentlemen,  you  know 

the  act  of um  —  um,  —  where  the  deuce  is  that  act  ? 

[Fumbling  an  old  law-book.]  How  plagued  did  you  ever 
hear  of  that  act,  Shallow  ?  I  'm  sure  I  'd  forgot  all  about 
it.  Oh  !  here  't  is.  Well,  Mr.  Shallow,  the  act  says  you 
must  make  proof,  you  observe. 

Mr.  Shallow.  [Stuttering  and  hesitating.]  Good  land  ! 
why,  don't  everybody  see  that  them  ar  niggers  are  most 
starved  ?  Only  see  how  ragged  they  are  ! 

Justice.  I  can't  say  as  I  've  observed  it  particular. 
Seem  to  be  very  well  contented. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  335 

Shallow.  [Eagerly.]  But  just  ask  Pomp,  or  Sambo, 
or  Dinah,  or  Torn ! 

Justice  Dogberry.  [With  dignity.]  1 7m  astonished  at 
you,  Mr.  Shallow !  You  think  of  producing  negro  testi 
mony  ?  I  hope  I  know  the  law  better  than  that !  We 
must  have  direct  proof,  you  know. 

Shallow  is  posed ;  Legree  significantly  takes  another 
tumbler  of  whiskey  and  water,  and  Justice  Dogberry  gives 
a  long  ahe-a-um.  After  a  few  moments  the  justice  speaks  : 

"  Well,  after  all,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Legree,  you  would  n't 
have  any  objections  to  swarin7  off ;  that  settles  it  all,  you 
know.77 

As  swearing  is  what  Mr.  Legree  is  rather  more  accus 
tomed  to  do  than  anything  else  that  could  be  named,  a  more 
appropriate  termination  of  the  affair  could  not  be  suggested ; 
and  he  swears,  accordingly,  to  any  extent,  and  with  any 
fullness  and  variety  of  oath  that  could  be  desired ;  and  thus 
the  little  affair  terminates.  But  it  does  not  terminate  thus 
for  Tom,  or  Sambo,  Dinah,  or  any  others  who  have  been 
alluded  to  for  authority.  What  will  happen  to  them,  when 
Mr.  Legree  comes  home,  had  better  be  left  to  conjecture. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    EXECUTION    OF    JUSTICE 

Having  given  some  account  of  what  sort  of  statutes  are 
to  be  found  on  the  law-books  of  slavery,  the  reader  will 
hardly  be  satisfied  without  knowing  what  sort  of  trials  are 
held  under  them.  We  will  quote  one  specimen  of  a  trial,  re 
ported  in  the  "  Charleston  Courier  '7  of  May  6,  1847.  The 
"  Charleston  Courier  77  is  one  of  the  leading  papers  of  South 
Carolina,  and  the  case  is  reported  with  the  utmost  apparent 
innocence  that  there  was  anything  about  the  trial  that  could 


336  A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

reflect  in  the  least  on  the  character  of  the  State  for  the  ut 
most  legal  impartiality.  In  fact,  the  "  Charleston  Courier  " 
ushers  it  into  public  view  with  the  following  flourish  of 
trumpets,  as  something  which  is  forever  to  confound  those 
who  say  that  South  Carolina  does  not  protect  the  life  of  the 
slave  :  — 

THE    TRIAL    FOR    MURDER. 

Our  community  was  deeply  interested  and  excited,  yesterday, 
by  a  case  of  great  importance,  and  also  of  entire  novelty  in  our 
jurisprudence.  It  was  the  trial  of  a  lady  of  respectable  family, 
and  the  mother  of  a  large  family,  charged  with  the  murder  of 
her  own  or  her  husband's  slave.  The  court-house  was  thronged 
with  spectators  of  the  exciting  drama,  who  remained,  with 
unabated  interest  and  undiminished  numbers,  until  the  ver 
dict  was  rendered  acquitting  the  prisoner.  We  cannot  but 
regard  the  fact  of  this  trial  as  a  salutary,  although,  in  itself, 
lamentable  occurrence,  as  it  will  show  to  the  world  that,  how 
ever  panoplied  in  station  and  wealth,  and  although  challeng 
ing  those  sympathies  which  are  the  right  and  inheritance  of 
the  female  sex,  no  one  will  be  suffered,  in  this  community,  to 
escape  the  most  sifting  scrutiny,  at  the  risk  of  even  an  igno 
minious  death,  who  stands  charged  with  the  suspicion  of  mur 
dering  a  slave,  —  to  whose  life  our  law  now  extends  the  segis  of 
protection,  in  the  same  manner  as  it  does  to  that  of  the  white 
man,  save  only  in  the  character  of  the  evidence  necessary  for  con 
viction  or  defense.  While  evil-disposed  persons  at  home  are 
thus  taught  that  they  may  expect  rigorous  trial  and  condign 
punishment,  when,  actuated  by  malignant  passions,  they  in 
vade  the  life  of  the  humble  slave,  the  enemies  of  our  domestic 
institution  abroad  will  find,  their  calumnies  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding,  that  we  are  resolved,  in  this  particular,  to  do 
the  full  measure  of  our  duty  to  the  laws  of  humanity.  We 
subjoin  a  report  of  the  case. 

The  proceedings  of  the  trial  are  thus  given  :  — 

As  some  of  our  readers  may  not  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  endeavoring  to  extract  anything  like  common  sense  or 
information  from  documents  so  very  concisely  and  lumi 
nously  worded,  the  author  will  just  state  her  own  opinion 


A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  337 

that  the  above  document  [the  indictment]  is  intended  to 
charge  Mrs.  Eliza  Rowand  with  having  killed  her  slave 
Maria,  in  one  of  two  ways :  either  with  beating  her  on  the 
head  with  her  own  hands,  or  having  the  same  deed  per 
formed  by  proxy,  by  her  slave-man  Richard.  The  whole 
case  is  now  presented.  In  order  to  make  the  reader  clearly 
understand  the  arguments,  it  is  necessary  that  he  bear  in 
mind  that  the  law  of  1740,  as  we  have  before  shown,  pun 
ished  the  murder  of  the  slave  only  with  fine  and  disfran- 
chisement,  while  the  law  of  1821  punishes  it  with  death. 

On  motion  of  Mr.  Petigru,  the  prisoner  was  allowed  to 
remove  from  the  bar,  and  take  her  place  by  her  counsel ;  the 
judge  saying  he  granted  the  motion  only  because  the  prisoner 
was  a  woman,  but  that  no  such  privilege  would  have  been  ex 
tended  by  him  to  any  man. 

The  Attorney-general,  Henry  Bailey,  Esq.,  then  rose  and 
opened  the  the  case  for  the  state,  in  substance,  as  follows  :  — 

The  prisoner  stood  indicted  for  the  murder  of  a  slave.  This 
was  supposed  not  to  be  murder  at  common  law.  At  least,  it 
was  not  murder  by  our  former  statute ;  but  the  act  of  1821  had 
placed  the  killing  of  the  white  man  and  the  black  man  on  the 
same  footing.  He  here  read  the  act  of  1821,  declaring  that 
"  any  person  who  shall  willfully,  deliberately,  and  maliciously 
murder  a  slave,  shall,  on  conviction  thereof,  suffer  death  with 
out  benefit  of  clergy."  The  rules  applicable  to  murder  at  com 
mon  law  were  generally  applicable,  however,  to  the  present 
case.  The  inquiries  to  be  made  may  be  reduced  to  two  :  1.  Is 
the  party  charged  guilty  of  the  fact  of  killing  ?  This  must  be 
clearly  made  out  by  proof.  If  she  be  not  guilty  of  killing, 
there  is  an  end  of  the  case.  2.  The  character  of  that  killing, 
or  of  the  offense.  Was  it  done  with  malice  aforethought  ? 
Malice  is  the  essential  ingredient  of  the  crime.  Where  killing 
takes  place,  malice  is  presumed,  unless  the  contrary  appear ; 
and  this  must  be  gathered  from  the  attending  circumstances. 
Malice  is  a  technical  term,  importing  a  different  meaning  from 
that  conveyed  by  the  same  word  in  common  parlance.  Accord 
ing  to  the  learned  Michael  Foster,  it  consists  not  in  "  malevo 
lence  to  particulars,"  it  does  not  mean  hatred  to  any  particu 
lar  individual,  but  is  general  in  its  import  and  application. 


338  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

But  even  killing,  with  intention  to  kill,  is  not  always  murder ; 
there  may  be  justifiable  and  excusable  homicide,  and  killing 
in  sudden  heat  and  passion  is  so  modified  to  manslaughter. 
Yet  there  may  be  murder  when  there  is  no  ill-feeling,  —  nay, 
perfect  indifference  to  the  slain,  —  as  in  the  case  of  the  robber 
who  slays  to  conceal  his  crime.  Malice  aforethought  is  that 
depraved  feeling  of  the  heart,  which  makes  one  regardless 
of  social  duty,  and  fatally  bent  on  mischief.  It  is  fulfilled  by 
that  recklessness  of  law  and  human  life  which  is  indicated 
by  shooting  into  a  crowd,  and  thus  doing  murder  on  even  an 
unknown  object.  Such  a  feeling  the  law  regards  as  hateful, 
and  visits,  in  its  practical  exhibition,  with  condign  punish 
ment,  because  opposed  to  the  very  existence  of  law  and  society. 
One  may  do  fatal  mischief  without  this  recklessness ;  but  when 
the  act  is  done,  regardless  of  consequences,  and  death  ensues,  it 
is  murder  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  If  the  facts  to  be  proved  in  this 
case  should  not  come  up  to  these  requisitions,  he  implored  the 
jury  to  acquit  the  accused,  as  at  once  due  to  law  and  justice. 
They  should  note  every  fact  with  scrutinizing  eye,  and  ascer 
tain  whether  the  fatal  result  proceeded  from  passing  accident 
or  from  brooding  revenge,  which  the  law  stamped  with  the 
odious  name  of  malice.  He  would  make  no  further  prelimi 
nary  remarks,  but  proceed  at  once  to  lay  the  facts  before  them, 
from  the  mouths  of  the  witnesses. 

Evidence. 

J.  Portcous  Deveaux  sworn.  —  He  is  the  coroner  of  Charles 
ton  district ;  held  the  inquest,  on  the  7th  of  January  last,  on 
the  body  of  the  deceased  slave,  Maria,  the  slave  of  Robert 
Rowand,  at  the  residence  of  Mrs.  T.  C.  Bee  (the  mother  of  the 
prisoner),  in  Logan  Street.  The  body  was  found  in  an  out 
building  —  a  kitchen  ;  it  was  the  body  of  an  old  and  emaciated 
person,  between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age ;  it  was  not  ex 
amined  in  his  presence  by  physicians  ;  saw  some  few  scratches 
about  the  face  ;  adjourned  to  the  City  Hall.  Mrs.  Rowand 
was  examined ;  her  examination  was  in  writing ;  it  was  here 
produced,  and  read,  as  follows  :  — 

"  Mrs.  Eliza  Rowand  sworn.  —  Says  Maria  is  her  nurse,  and 
had  misbehaved  on  yesterday  morning  ;  deponent  sent  Maria 
to  Mr.  Rowand's  house,  to  be  corrected  by  Simon;  deponent 
sent  Maria  from  the  house  about  seven  o'clock,  A.  M.  ;  she 
returned  to  her  about  nine  o'clock ;  came  into  her  chamber ; 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  339 

Simon  did  not  come  into  the  chamber  at  any  time  previous 
to  the  death  of  Maria ;  deponent  says  Maria  fell  down  in  the 
chamber ;  deponent  had  her  seated  up  by  Richard,  who  was 
then  in  the  chamber,  and  deponent  gave  Maria  some  asaf  oetida ; 
deponent  then  left  the  room ;  Richard  came  down  and  said 
Maria  was  dead  ;  deponent  says  Richard  did  not  strike  Maria, 
nor  did  any  one  else  strike  her,  in  deponent's  chamber.  Rich 
ard  left  the  chamber  immediately  with  deponent ;  Maria  was 
about  fifty-two  years  of  age  ;  deponent  sent  Maria  by  Richard 
to  Simon,  to  Mr.  Rowand's  house,  to  be  corrected ;  Mr.  Rowand 
was  absent  from  the  city;  Maria  died  about  twelve  o'clock ; 
Richard  and  Maria  were  on  good  terms  ;  deponent  was  in  the 
chamber  all  the  while  that  Richard  and  Maria  were  there 
together. 

"ELIZA  ROWAND. 

"  Sworn  to  before  me  this  7th  January,  1847. 

"  J.  P.  DEVEAUX,  Coroner,  D.  C." 

Witness  went  to  the  chamber  of  prisoner,  where  the  death 
occurred ;  saw  nothing  particular ;  some  pieces  of  wood  in  a 
box,  set  in  the  chimney ;  his  attention  was  called  to  one  piece, 
in  particular,  eighteen  inches  long,  three  inches  wide,  and  about 
one  and  a  half  inch  thick ;  did  not  measure  it ;  the  jury  of 
inquest  did ;  it  was  not  a  light-wood  knot ;  thinks  it  was  of 
oak ;  there  was  some  pine  wood  and  some  split  oak.  Dr.  Peter 
Porcher  was  called  to  examine  the  body  professionally,  who 
did  so  out  of  witness'  presence. 

Before  this  witness  left  the  stand,  B.  F.  Hunt,  Esq.,  one  of 
the  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  rose  and  opened  the  defense  before 
the  jury,  in  substance  as  follows  :  — 

He  said  that  the  scene  before  them  was  a  very  novel  one  ; 
and  whether  for  good  or  evil,  he  would  not  pretend  to  pro 
phesy.  It  was  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  this  State  that 
a  lady  of  good  character  and  respectable  connections  stood 
arraigned  at  the  bar,  and  had  been  put  on  trial  for  her  life, 
on  facts  arising  out  of  her  domestic  relations  to  her  own  slave. 
It  was  a  spectacle  consoling,  and  cheering,  perhaps,  to  those 
who  owed  no  good  will  to  the  institutions  of  our  country ;  but 
calculated  only  to  excite  pain  and  regret  among  ourselves. 
He  would  not  state  a  proposition  so  revolting  to  humanity  as 
that  crime  should  go  unpunished  ;  but  judicial  interference  be 
tween  the  slave  and  the  owner  was  a  matter  at  once  of  delicacy 


340  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

and  danger.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  stood  between 
a  slave-owner  and  the  public  prosecutor,  and  his  sensations 
were  anything  but  pleasant.  This  is  an  entirely  different  case 
from  homicide  letween  equals  in  society.  Subordination  is  indis 
pensable  where  slavery  exists;  and  in  this  there  is  no  new 
principle  involved.  The  same  principle  prevails  in  every  coun 
try  ;  on  shipboard  and  in  the  army  a  large  discretion  is  always 
left  to  the  superior.  Charges  by  inferiors  against  their  supe 
riors  were  always  to  be  viewed  with  great  circumspection  at 
least,  and  especially  when  the  latter  are  charged  with  cruelty 
or  crime  against  subordinates.  In  the  relation  of  owner  and 
slave  there  is  an  absence  of  the  usual  motives  for  murder,  and 
strong  inducements  against  it  on  the  part  of  the  former.  Life 
is  usually  taken  from  avarice  or  passion.  The  master  gains 
nothing,  but  loses  much,  by  the  death  of  his  slave ;  and  when 
he  takes  the  life  of  the  latter  deliberately,  there  must  be  more 
than  ordinary  malice  to  instigate  the  deed.  The  policy  of 
altering  the  old  law  of  1740,  which  punished  the  killing  of  a 
slave  with  fine  and  political  disfranchisement,  was  more  than 
doubtful.  It  was  the  law  of  our  colonial  ancestors ;  it  con 
formed  to  their  policy  and  was  approved  by  their  wisdom,  and 
it  continued  undisturbed  by  their  posterity  until  the  year  1821. 
It  was  engrafted  on  our  policy  in  counteraction  of  the  schemes 
and  machinations,  or  in  deference  to  the  clamors,  of  those  who 
formed  plans  for  our  improvement,  although  not  interested  in 
nor  understanding  our  institutions,  and  whose  interference  led 
to  the  tragedy  of  1822. 

Truth  has  been  distorted  in  this  case,  and  murder  manufac 
tured  out  of  what  was  nothing  more  than  ordinary  domestic 
discipline.  Chastisement  must  be  inflicted  until  subordination 
is  produced ;  and  the  extent  of  the  punishment  is  not  to  be 
judged  of  by  one  's  neighbors,  but  by  himself.  The  event  in 
this  case  has  been  unfortunate  and  sad;  but  there  was  no 
motive  for  the  taking  of  life.  There  is  no  pecuniary  interest 
in  the  owner  to  destroy  his  slave  ;  the  murder  of  his  slave  can 
only  happen  from  ferocious  passions  of  the  master,  filling  his 
own  bosom  with  anguish  and  contrition.  This  case  has  no 
other  basis  but  unfounded  rumor,  commonly  believed,  on  evi 
dence  that  will  not  venture  here,  the  offspring  of  that  passion  and 
depravity  which  make  up  falsehood.  The  hope  of  freedom,  of 
change  of  owners,  revenge,  are  all  motives  with  slave  witnesses 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  341 

to  malign  their  owners;  and  to  credit  such  testimony  would  be 
to  dissolve  human  society.  Where  deliberate,  willful,  and  ma 
licious  murder  is  done,  whether  by  male  or  female,  the  retribu 
tion  of  the  law  is  a  debt  to  God  and  man ;  but  the  jury  should 
beware  lest  it  fall  upon  the  innocent.  The  offense  charged 
was  not  strictly  murder  at  common  law.  The  act  of  1740  was 
founded  on  the  practical  good  sense  of  our  old  planters,  and 
its  spirit  still  prevails.  The  act  of  1821  is,  by  its  terms,  an  act 
only  to  increase  the  punishment  of  persons  convicted  of  mur 
dering  a  slave,  —  and  this  is  a  refinement  in  humanity  of  doubtful 
policy.  But,  by  the  act  of  1821,  the  murder  must  be  willful, 
deliberate,  and  malicious ;  and,  when  punishment  is  due  to  the 
slave,  the  master  must  not  be  held  to  strict  account  for  going 
an  inch  beyond  the  mark;  whether  for  doing  so  he  shall  be  a 
felon,  is  a  question  for  the  jury  to  solve.  The  master  must 
conquer  a  refractory  slave ;  and  deliberation,  so  as  to  render  clear 
the  existence  of  malice,  is  necessary  to  bring  the  master  within 
the  provision  of  the  act.  He  bade  the  jury  remember  the  words 
of  Him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  — "  Let  him  that  has 
never  sinned  throw  the  first  stone"  They,  as  masters,  might  regret 
excesses  to  which  they  have  themselves  carried  punishment.  He  was 
not  at  all  surprised  at  the  course  of  the  attorney-general ;  it 
was  his  wont  to  treat  every  case  with  perfect  fairness.  He 
(Colonel  H.)  agreed  that  the  inquiry  should  be  — 

1.  Into  the  fact  of  the  death. 

2.  The  character  or  motive  of  the  act. 

The  examination  of  the  prisoner  showed  conclusively  that 
the  slave  died  a  natural  death,  and  not  from  personal  violence. 
She  was  chastised  with  a  lawful  weapon,  —  was  in  weak  health, 
nervous,  made  angry  by  her  punishment,  —  excited.  The  story 
was  then  a  plain  one  ;  the  community  had  been  misled  by  the 
creations  of  imagination,  or  the  statements  of  interested  slaves. 
The  negro  came  into  her  mistress'  chamber ;  fell  on  the  floor  ; 
medicine  was  given  her ;  it  was  supposed  she  was  asleep,  but 
she  slept  the  sleep  of  death.  To  show  the  wisdom  and  policy 
of  the  old  act  of  1740  (this  indictment  is  under  both  acts,  — 
the  punishment  only  altered  by  that  of  1821),  he  urged  that  a 
case  like  this  was  not  murder  at  common  law  ;  nor  is  the  same 
evidence  applicable  at  common  law.  There,  murder  was  pre 
sumed  from  killing  ;  not  so  in  the  case  of  a  slave.  The  act  of 
1740  permits  a  master,  when  his  slave  is  killed  in  his  presence, 
there  being  no  other  white  person  present,  to  exculpate  him- 


342  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

self  by  his  own  oath ;  and  this  exculpation  is  complete,  unless 
clearly  contravened  by  the  evidence  of  two  white  witnesses. 
This  is  exactly  what  the  prisoner  has  done ;  she  has,  as  the 
law  permits,  by  calling  on  God,  exculpated  herself.  And  her 
oath  is  good,  at  least  against  the  slander  of  her  own  slaves. 
Which,  then,  should  prevail,  the  clamors  of  others,  or  the 
policy  of  the  law  established  by  our  colonial  ancestors  ?  There 
would  not  be  a  tittle  of  positive  evidence  against  the  prisoner, 
nothing  but  circumstantial  evidence  ;  and  ingenious  combina 
tion  might  be  made  to  lead  to  any  conclusion.  Justice  was  all 
that  his  client  asked.  She  appealed  to  liberal  and  high-minded 
men,  —  and  she  rejoiced  in  the  privilege  of  doing  so,  —  to  ac 
cord  her  that  justice  they  would  demand  for  themselves. 
[Three  physicians  were  called  by  the  prosecution.] 

The  evidence  for  the  prosecution  here  closed,  and  no  wit 
nesses  were  called  for  the  defense. 

The  jury  were  then  successively  addressed,  ably  and  elo 
quently,  by  J.  L.  Petigru  and  James  S.  Rhett,  Esqrs.,  on  behalf 
of  the  prisoner,  and  H.  Bailey,  Esq.,  on  behalf  of  the  State,  and 
B.  F.  Hunt,  Esq.,  in  reply.  Of  those  speeches,  and  also  of  the 
judge's  charge,  we  have  taken  full  notes,  but  have  neither  time 
nor  space  to  insert  them  here. 

His  Honor,  Judge  O'Neall,  then  charged  the  jury  eloquently 
and  ably  on  the  facts,  vindicating  the  existing  law,  making 
death  the  penalty  for  the  murder  of  a  slave ;  but,  on  the  law, 
intimated  to  the  jury  that  he  held  the  act  of  1740  so  far  still  in 
force  as  to  admit  of  the  prisoner's  exculpation  by  her  own  oath, 
unless  clearly  disproved  by  the  oaths  of  two  witnesses  ;  and  that 
they  were,  therefore,  in  his  opinion,  bound  to  acquit,  —  although 
he  left  it  to  them,  wholly,  to  say  whether  the  prisoner  was  guilty 
of  murder,  killing  in  sudden  heat  and  passion,  or  not  guilty. 

The  jury  then  retired,  and,  in  about  twenty  or  thirty  minutes, 
returned  with  a  verdict  of  "  Not  Guilty." 


There  are  some  points  which  appear  in  this  statement  of 
the  trial,  especially  in  the  plea  for  the  defense.  Particular 
attention  is  called  to  the  following  passage  :  — 

"  Fortunately  [said  the  lawyer]  the  jury  were  of  the  coun 
try  ;  —  acquainted  with  our  policy  and  practice ;  composed  of 


A   KEY  TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  343 

men  too  honorable  to  be  led  astray  by  the  noise  and  clamor  out 
of  doors.  All  was  now  as  it  should  be  ;  at  least,  a  court  of  jus 
tice  had  assembled  to  which  his  client  had  fled  for  refuge  and 
safety ;  its  threshold  was  sacred  ;  no  profane  clamors  entered 
there ;  but  legal  investigation  was  had  of  facts." 

From  this  it  plainly  appears  that  the  case  was  a  notorious 
one  ;  so  notorious  and  atrocious  as  to  break  through  all  the 
apathy  which  slave-holding  institutions  tend  to  produce, 
and  to  surround  the  court-house  with  noise  and  clamor. 

From  another  intimation  in  the  same  speech,  it  would 
appear  that  there  was  abundant  testimony  of  slaves  to  the 
direct  fact,  —  testimony  which  left  no  kind  of  doubt  on 
the  popular  mind.  Why  else  does  he  thus  earnestly  warn 
the  jury  ? 

"  He  warned  the  jury  that  they  were  to  listen  to  no  evidence 
but  that  of  free  white  persons,  given  on  oath  in  open  court ; 
they  were  to  imagine  none  that  came  not  from  them.  It  was 
for  this  that  they  were  selected ;  their  intelligence  putting  them 
beyond  the  influence  of  unfounded  accusations,  unsustained 
by  legal  proof :  of  legends  of  aggravated  cruelty,  founded  on 
the  evidence  of  negroes,  and  arising  from  weak  and  wicked 
falsehoods." 

See  also  this  remarkable  admission  :  "  Truth  had  been 
distorted  in  this  case,  and  murder  manufactured  out  of  what 
was  nothing  more  than  ORDINARY  DOMESTIC  DISCIPLINE." 
If  the  reader  refers  to  the  testimony,  he  will  find  it  testified 
that  the  woman  appeared  to  be  about  sixty  years  old  ;  that 
she  was  much  emaciated ;  that  there  had  been  a  succession 
of  blows  on  the  top  of  her  head,  and  one  violent  one  over 
the  ear  ;  and  that,  in  the  opinion  of  a  surgeon,  these  blows 
were  sufficient  to  cause  death.  Yet  the  lawyer  for  the  de 
fense  coolly  remarks  that  "  murder  had  been  manufactured 
out  of  what  was  ordinary  domestic  discipline"  Are  we  to 
understand  that  beating  feeble  old  women  on  the  head,  in 
this  manner,  is  a  specimen  of  ordinary  domestic  discipline 
in  Charleston  ?  What  would  have  been  said  if  any  anti- 


344  A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

slavery  newspaper  at  the  North  had  made  such  an  assertion 
as  this  ?  Yet  the  "  Charleston  Courier  "  reports  this  state 
ment  without  comment  or  denial.  But  let  us  hear  the  lady's 
lawyer  go  still  further  in  vindication  of  this  ordinary  domes 
tic  discipline  :  "  Chastisement  must  be  inflicted  until  subor 
dination  is  produced  ;  and  the  extent  of  the  punishment  is 
not  to  be  judged  by  one's  neighbors,  but  by  himself.  The 
event,  ix  THIS  CASE,  has  been  unfortunate  and  sad."  The 
lawyer  admits  that  the  result  of  thumping  a  feeble  old 
woman  on  the  head  has,  in  this  case,  been  "  unfortunate 
and  sad."  The  old  thing  had  not  strength  to  bear  it,  and 
had  no  greater  regard  for  the  convenience  of  the  family,  and 
the  reputation  of  "  the  institution,"  than  to  die,  and  so  get 
the  family  and  the  community  generally  into  trouble.  It 
will  appear  from  this  that  in  most  cases  where  old  women 
are  thumped  on  the  head  they  have  stronger  constitutions  — 
or  more  consideration. 

Again  he  says,  "  When  punishment  is  due  to  the  slave, 
the  master  must  not  be  held  to  strict  account  for  going  an 
inch  beyond  the  mark."  And  finally,  and  most  astound 
ing  of  all,  comes  this  :  "  He  bade  the  jury  remember  the 
words  of  him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  — '  LET 

HIM     THAT     HATH     NEVER      SIXXED     THROW     THE     FIRST 

STOXE.'  They,  as  masters,  might  regret  excesses  to  which 
they  themselves  might  have  carried  punishment." 

What  sort  of  an  insinuation  is  this  ?  Did  he  mean  to 
say  that  almost  all  the  jurymen  had  probably  done  things 
of  the  same  sort,  and  therefore  could  have  nothing  to  say 
in  this  case  ?  and  did  no  member  of  the  jury  get  up  and 
resent  such  a  charge  ?  From  all  that  appears,  the  jury  acqui 
esced  in  it  as  quite  a  matter  of  course ;  and  the  "  Charles 
ton  Courier  "  quotes  it  without  comment,  in  the  record  of  a 
trial  which  it  says  "  will  show  to  the  world  HOW  the  law 
extends  the  segis  of  her  protection  alike  over  the  white  man 
and  the  humblest  slave." 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  345 

Lastly,  notice  the  decision  of  the  judge,  which  has  be 
come  law  in  South  Carolina.  What  point  does  it  establish  ? 
That  the  simple  oath  of  the  master,  in  face  of  all  circum 
stantial  evidence  to  the  contrary,  may  clear  him,  when  the 
murder  of  a  slave  is  the  question.  And  this  trial  is  paraded 
as  a  triumphant  specimen  of  legal  impartiality  and  equity  ! 
"  If  the  light  that  is  in  thee  be  darkness,  how  great  is  that 
darkness !  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    GOOD    OLD    TIMES 

CHAPTER  IX 

MODERATE      CORRECTION     AND      ACCIDENTAL      DEATH.  

STATE    V.    CASTLEMAN 

CHAPTER  X 

PRINCIPLES    ESTABLISHED.  STATE    V.  LEGREE  ;    A    CASE 

NOT    IN    THE    BOOKS 

From  a  review  of  all  the  legal  cases  which  have  hitherto 
been  presented,  and  of  the  principles  established  in  the 
judicial  decisions  upon  them,  the  following  facts  must  be 
apparent  to  the  reader  :  — 

First,  That  masters  do,  now  and  then,  kill  slaves  by  the 
torture. 

Second,  That  the  fact  of  so  killing  a  slave  is  not  of  itself 
held  presumption  of  murder,  in  slave  jurisprudence. 

Third,  That  the  slave  in  the  act  of  resistance  to  his  mas 
ter  may  always  be  killed. 


346  A   KEY  TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

From  these  things  it  will  be  seen  to  follow  that,  if  the 
facts  of  the  death  of  Tom  had  been  fully  proved  by  two 
white  witnesses,  in  open  court,  Legree  could  not  have  been 
held  by  any  consistent  interpreter  of  slave  law  to  be  a  mur 
derer  5  for  Tom  was  in  the  act  of  resistance  to  the  will  of 
his  master.  His  master  had  laid  a  command  on  him,  in  the 
presence  of  other  slaves.  Tom  had  deliberately  refused  to 
obey  the  command.  The  master  commenced  chastisement, 
to  reduce  him  to  obedience.  And  it  is  evident  at  the  first 
glance  to  every  one  that,  if  the  law  does  not  sustain  him 
in  enforcing  obedience  in  such  a  case,  there  is  an  end  of  the 
whole  slave  power.  No  Southern  court  would  dare  to  de 
cide  that  Legree  did  wrong  to  continue  the  punishment,  as 
long  as  Tom  continued  the  insubordination.  Legree  stood 
by  him  every  moment  of  the  time,  pressing  him  to  yield, 
and  offering  to  let  him  go  as  soon  as  he  did  yield.  Tom's 
resistance  was  insurrection.  It  was  an  example  which  could 
not  be  allowed,  for  a  moment,  on  any  Southern  plantation. 
By  the  express  words  of  the  constitution  of  Georgia,  and  by 
the  understanding  and  usage  of  all  slave  law,  the  power  of 
life  and  death  is  always  left  in  the  hands  of  the  master,  in 
exigencies  like  this.  This  is  not  a  case  like  that  of  Souther 
v.  The  Commonwealth.  The  victim  of  Souther  was  not  in 
a  state  of  resistance  or  insurrection.  The  punishment,  in 
his  case,  was  a  simple  vengeance  for  a  past  offense,  and  not 
an  attempt  to  reduce  him  to  subordination. 

There  is  no  principle  of  slave  jurisprudence  by  which  a 
man  could  be  pronounced  a  murderer,  for  acting  as  Legree 
did,  in  his  circumstances.  Everybody  must  see  that  such 
an  admission  would  strike  at  the  foundations  of  the  slave 
system.  To  be  sure,  Tom  was  in  a  state  of  insurrection  for 
conscience'  sake.  But  the  law  does  not,  and  cannot,  con 
template  that  the  negro  shall  have  a  conscience  independent 
of  his  master's.  To  allow  that  the  negro  may  refuse  to 
obey  his  master  whenever  he  thinks  that  obedience  would 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  347 

be  wrong,  would  be  to  produce  universal  anarchy.  If  Tom 
had  been  allowed  to  disobey  his  master  in  this  case,  for 
conscience'  sake,  the  next  day  Sambo  would  have  had  a  case 
of  conscience,  and  Quimbo  the  next.  Several  of  them 
might  very  justly  have  thought  that  it  was  a  sin  to  work  as 
they  did.  The  mulatto  woman  would  have  remembered 
that  the  command  of  God  forbade  her  to  take  another  hus 
band.  Mothers  might  have  considered  that  it  was  more 
their  duty  to  stay  at  home  and  take  care  of  their  children, 
when  they  were  young  and  feeble,  than  to  work  for  Mr. 
Legree  in  the  cotton-field.  There  would  be  no  end  to  the 
havoc  made  upon  cotton-growing  operations,  were  the  negro 
allowed  the  right  of  maintaining  his  own  conscience  on 
moral  subjects.  If  the  slave  system  is  a  right  system,  and 
ought  to  be  maintained,  Mr.  Legree  ought  not  to  be  blamed 
for  his  conduct  in  this  case  ;  for  he  did  only  what  was 
absolutely  essential  to  maintain  the  system ;  and  Tom  died 
in  fanatical  and  foolhardy  resistance  to  "  the  powers  that 
be,  which  are  ordained  of  God."  He  followed  a  sentimen 
tal  impulse  of  his  desperately  depraved  heart,  and  neglected 
those  "  solid  teachings  of  the  written  word,"  which,  as 
recently  elucidated,  have  proved  so  refreshing  to  eminent 
political  men. 

CHAPTER  XI 

THE    TRIUMPH    OF    JUSTICE    OVER    LAW 


CHAPTER  XII 

A      COMPARISON      OF      THE      ROMAN      LAW     OF      SLAVERY 
WITH    THE    AMERICAN 


348  A   KEY   TO    UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  MEN  BETTER  THAN  THEIR  LAWS 

Judgment  is  turned  away  backward, 
And  Justice  standeth  afar  off  ; 
For  Truth  is  fallen  in  the  street, 
And  Equity  cannot  enter. 
Yea,  Truth  faileth  ; 

And    HE    THAT    DEPARTETH   FROM    EVIL   MAKETH   HIMSELF   A   PREY. 

ISAIAH  59:  14,  15. 

There  is  one  very  remarkable  class  of  laws  yet  to  be 
considered. 

So  full  of  cruelty  and  unmerciful  severity  is  the  slave- 
code,  —  such  an  atrocity  is  the  institution  of  which  it  is  the 
legal  definition, —  that  there  are  multitudes  of  individuals 
too  generous  and  too  just  to  be  willing  to  go  to  the  full 
extent  of  its  restrictions  and  deprivations. 

A  generous  man,  instead  of  regarding  the  poor  slave  as  a 
piece  of  property,  dead,  and  void  of  rights,  is  tempted  to 
regard  him  rather  as  a  helpless  younger  brother,  or  as  a 
defenseless  child,  and  to  extend  to  him,  by  his  own  good 
right  arm,  that  protection  and  those  rights  which  the  law 
denies  him.  A  religious  man,  who,  by  the  theory  of  his 
belief,  regards  all  men  as  brothers,  and  considers  his  Chris 
tian  slave,  with  himself,  as  a  member  of  Jesus  Christ,  —  as 
of  one  body,  one  spirit,  and  called  in  one  hope  of  his  call 
ing,  —  cannot  willingly  see  him  "  doomed  to  live  without 
knowledge,"  without  the  power  of  reading  the  written 
Word,  and  to  raise  up  his  children  after  him  in  the  same 
darkness. 

Hence,  if  left  to  itself,  individual  humanity  would,  in 
many  cases,  practically  abrogate  the  slave-code.  Individual 
humanity  would  teach  the  slave  to  read  and  write,  — would 
build  school-houses  for  his  children,  and  would,  in  very,  very 
many  cases,  enfranchise  him. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  349 

The  result  of  all  this  has  been  foreseen.  It  has  been  fore 
seen  that  the  result  of  education  would  be  general  intelli 
gence  ;  that  the  result  of  intelligence  would  be  a  knowledge 
of  personal  rights ;  and  that  an  inquiry  into  the  doctrine  of 
personal  rights  would  be  fatal  to  the  system.  It  has  been 
foreseen,  also,  that  the  example  of  disinterestedness  and  gen 
erosity,  in  emancipation,  might  carry  with  it  a  generous 
contagion,  until  it  should  become  universal ;  that  the 
example  of  educated  and  emancipated  slaves  would  prove 
a  dangerous  excitement  to  those  still  in  bondage. 

For  this  reason,  the  American  slave-code,  which,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  embraces,  substantially,  all  the  barbari 
ties  of  that  of  ancient  Rome,  has  had  added  to  it  a  set  of 
laws  more  cruel  than  any  which  ancient  and  heathen  Rome 
ever  knew,  —  laws  designed  to  shut  against  the  slave  his 
last  refuge,  —  the  humanity  of  his  master.  The  master,  in 
ancient  Rome,  might  give  his  slave  whatever  advantages 
of  education  he  chose,  or  at  any  time  emancipate  him,  and 
the  state  did  not  interfere  to  prevent.1 

But  in  America  the  laws,  throughout  all  the  slave  States, 
most  rigorously  forbid,  in  the  first  place,  the  education  of 
the  slave.  We  do  not  profess  to  give  all  these  laws,  but  a 
few  striking  specimens  may  be  presented.  Our  authority  is 
Judge  Stroud's  "  Sketch  of  the  Laws  of  Slavery." 

The  legislature  of  South  Carolina,  in  1740,  enounced  the 
following  preamble : 2  "  Whereas,  the  having  of  slaves 
taught  to  write,  or  suffering  them  to  be  employed  in  writing, 
may  be  attended  with  great  inconveniences  ;  "  and  enacted 
that  the  crime  of  teaching  a  slave  to  write,  or  of  employing 
a  slave  as  a  scribe,  should  be  punished  by  a  fine  of  one  hun 
dred  pounds,  current  money.  If  the  reader  will  turn  now 

1  In  and  after  the  reign  of  Augustus,  certain  restrictive  regulations  were 
passed,  designed  to  prevent  an  increase  of  unworthy  citizens  by  emanci 
pation.     They  had,  however,  nothing  like  the  stringent  force  of  American 
laws. 

2  Stroud's  Sketch,  p.  88. 


350  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

to  the  infamous  "  protective  "  statute,  enacted  by  the  same 
legislature,  in  the  same  year,  he  will  find  that  the  same  pen 
alty  has  been  appointed  for  the  cutting  out  of  the  tongue, 
putting  out  of  the  eye,  cruel  scalding,  etc.,  of  any  slave,  as 
for  the  offense  of  teaching  him  to  write  !  That  is  to  say, 
that  to  teach  him  to  write,  and  to  put  out  his  eyes,  are  to 
be  regarded  as  equally  reprehensible. 

That  there  might  be  no  doubt  of  the  "  great  and  funda 
mental  policy  "  of  the  State,  and  that  there  might  be  full 
security  against  the  "  great  inconveniences  "  of  "  having  of 
slaves  taught  to  write,"  it  was  enacted,  in  1800,  "  That  as 
semblies  of  slaves,  free  negroes,  etc.,  ...  for  the  purpose 
of  mental  instruction,  in  a  confined  or  secret  place,  etc., 
etc.,  is  [are]  declared  to  be  an  unlawful  meeting  ;  "  and 
the  officers  are  required  to  enter  such  confined  places,  and 
disperse  the  "  unlawful  assemblage,"  inflicting,  at  their 
discretion,  "  such  corporal  punishment,  not  exceeding  twenty 
lashes,  upon  such  slaves,  free  negroes,  etc.,  as  they  may 
judge  necessary  for  deterring  them  from  the  like  unlaw 
ful  assemblage  in  future."  1 

The  statute-book  of  Virginia  is  adorned  with  a  law  simi 
lar  to  the  one  last  quoted.2 

The  offense  of  teaching  a  slave  to  write  was  early  pun 
ished  in  Georgia,  as  in  South  Carolina,  by  a  pecuniary  fine. 
But  the  city  of  Savannah  seems  to  have  found  this  penalty 
insufficient  to  protect  it  from  "  great  inconveniences,"  and  we 
learn,  by  a  quotation  in  the  work  of  Judge  Stroud  from  a 
number  of  "  The  Portfolio,"  that  "  the  city  has  passed  an 
ordinance,  by  which  any  person  that  teaches  any  person  of 
color,  slave  or  free,  to  read  or  write,  or  causes  such  person 
to  be  so  taught,  is  subjected  to  a  fine  of  thirty  dollars  for 
each  offense ;  and  every  person  of  color  who  shall  keep  a 
school,  to  teach  reading  or  writing,  is  subject  to  a  fine  of 

1  Stroud's  Sketch,  p.  89.     2  Brevard's  Digest,  pp.  254,  255. 

2  Stroud,  pp.  88,  89. 


A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  351 

thirty  dollars,  or  to  be  imprisoned  ten  days,  and  whipped 
thirty-nine  lashes."  l 

Secondly.  In  regard  to  religious  privileges  :  — 
The  State  of  Georgia  has  enacted  a  law,  "  To  protect  re 
ligious  societies  in  the  exercise  of  their  religious  duties." 
This  law,  after  appointing  rigorous  penalties  for  the  offense 
of  interrupting  or  disturbing  a  congregation  of  white  persons } 
concludes  in  the  following  words  :  — 

"  No  congregation,  or  company  of  negroes,  shall,  under  pretense 
of  divine  worship,  assemble  themselves,  contrary  to  the  act  reg 
ulating  patrols."  2 

"  The  act  regulating  patrols,"  as  quoted  by  the  editor  of 
Prince's  Digest,  empowers  every  justice  of  the  peace  to  dis 
perse  ANY  assembly  or  meeting  of  slaves  which  may  disturb 
the  peace,  etc.,  of  his  majesty's  subjects,  and  permits  that 
every  slave  found  at  such  a  meeting  shall  "  immediately  be 
corrected,  WITHOUT  TRIAL,  by  receiving  on  the  bare  back 
twenty-five  stripes  with  a  whip,  switch,  or  cowskin"  B 

The  history  of  legislation  in  South  Carolina  is  significant. 
An  act  was  passed  in  1800,  containing  the  following  section  : 

"  It  shall  not  be  lawful  for  any  number  of  slaves,  free  negroes, 
mulattoes  or  mestizoes,  even  in  company  with  white  persons, 
to  meet  together  and  assemble  for  the  purpose  of  mental  in 
struction  or  religious  worship,  either  before  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
or  after  the  going  down  of  the  same.  And  all  magistrates, 
sheriffs,  militia  officers,  etc.,  etc.,  are  hereby  vested  with  power, 
etc.,  for  dispersing  such  assemblies,  etc."  4 

The  law  just  quoted  seems  somehow  to  have  had  a  pre 
judicial  effect  upon  the  religious  interests  of  the  "  slaves, 
free  negroes,"  etc.,  specified  in  it ;  for,  three  years  after 
wards,  on  the  petition  of  certain  religious  societies,  a  "pro 
tective  act "  was  passed,  which  should  secure  them  this 

1  Stroud's  Sketch,  pp.  89,  90. 

2  Stroud,  p.  93.     Prince's  Digest,  p.  342. 
s  Stroud,  p.  93.    Prince's  Digest,  p.  447. 

4  Stroud,  p.  93.    2  Brevard's  Dig.  254,  255. 


352  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

great  religious  privilege  ;  to  wit,  that  it  should  be  unlawful, 
before  nine  o'clock,  <(  to  break  into  a  place  of  meeting, 
wherein  shall  be  assembled  the  members  of  any  religious 
society  of  this  State,  provided  a  majority  of  them  shall  be 
white  persons,  or  otherwise  to  disturb  their  devotion,  unless 
such  person  shall  have  first  obtained  ...  a  warrant,  etc." 

Thirdly.  It  appears  that  many  masters,  who  are  dis 
posed  to  treat  their  slaves  generously,  have  allowed  them  to 
accumulate  property,  to  raise  domestic  animals  for  their 
own  use,  and,  in  the  case  of  intelligent  servants,  to  go  at 
large,  to  hire  their  own  time,  and  to  trade  upon  their  own 
account.  Upon  all  these  practices  the  law  comes  down 
with  unmerciful  severity.  A  penalty  is  inflicted  on  the 
owner,  but,  with  a  rigor  quite  accordant  with  the  tenor  of 
slave  law,  the  offense  is  considered,  in  law,  as  that  of  the 
slave,  rather  than  that  of  the  master ;  so  that,  if  the  master  is 
generous  enough  not  to  regard  the  penalty  which  is  imposed 
upon  himself,  he  may  be  restrained  by  the  fear  of  bring 
ing  a  greater  evil  upon  his  dependent.  These  laws  are,  in 
some  cases,  so  constructed  as  to  make  it  for  the  interest 
of  the  lowest  and  most  brutal  part  of  society  that  they  be 
enforced,  by  offering  half  the  profits  to  the  informer.  We 
give  the  following,  as  specimens  of  slave  legislation  on  this 
subject  :  — 

The  law  of  South  Carolina  :  — 

"  It  shall  not  be  lawful  for  any  slave  to  buy,  sell,  trade, 
etc.,  for  any  goods,  etc.,  without  a  license  from  the  owner,  etc. ; 
nor  shall  any  slave  be  permitted  to  keep  any  boat,  periauger,1 
or  canoe,  or  raise  and  breed,  for  the  benefit  of  such  slave,  any 
horses,  mares,  cattle,  sheep,  or  hogs,  under  pain  of  forfeiting 
all  the  goods,  etc.,  and  all  the  boats,  periaugers,  or  canoes, 
horses,  mares,  cattle,  sheep,  or  hogs.  And  it  shall  be  lawful  for 
any  person  whatsoever  to  seize  and  take  away  from  any  slave  all 
such  goods,  etc.,  boats,  etc.,  etc.,  and  to  deliver  the  same  into 
the  hands  of  any  justice  of  the  peace,  nearest  to  the  place  where 

i  /.  e.,  Periagua. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  353 

the  seizure  shall  be  made  ;  and  such  justice  shall  take  the  oath 
of  the  person  making  such  seizure,  concerning  the  manner 
thereof  ;  and  if  the  said  justice  shall  be  satisfied  that  such  seiz 
ure  has  been  made  according  to  law,  he  shall  pronounce  and 
declare  the  goods  so  seized  to  be  forfeited,  and  order  the  same 
to  be  sold  at  public  outcry,  one  half  of  the  moneys  arising 
from  such  sale  to  go  to  the  State,  and  the  other  half  to  him  or 
them  that  sue  for  the  same."  1 

The  laws  in  many  other  States  are  similar  to  the  above ; 
but  the  State  of  Georgia  has  an  additional  provision,  against 
permitting  the  slave  to  hire  himself  to  another  for  his  own 
benefit;  a  penalty  of  thirty  dollars  is  imposed  for  every 
weekly  offense,  on  the  part  of  the  master,  unless  the  labor 
be  done  on  his  own  premises.2  Savannah,  Augusta,  and 
Sunbury  are  places  excepted. 

In  Virginia,  "if  the  master  shall  permit  his  slave  to  hire 
himself  out,"  8  the  slave  is  to  be  apprehended,  etc.,  and  the 
master  to  be  fined. 

In  an  early  act  of  the  legislature  of  the  orthodox  and 
Presbyterian  State  of  North  Carolina,  it  is  gratifying  to  see 
how  the  judicious  course  of  public  policy  is  made  to  sub 
serve  the  interests  of  Christian  charity,  —  how,  in  a  single 
ingenious  sentence,  provision  is  made  for  punishing  the 
offender  against  society,  rewarding  the  patriotic  informer, 
and  feeding  the  poor  and  destitute  :  — 

"  All  horses,  cattle,  hogs,  or  sheep,  that,  one  month  after  the 
passing  of  this  act,  shall  belong  to  any  slave,  or  be  of  any  slave's 
mark,  in  this  State,  shall  be  seized  and  sold  by  the  county  war 
dens,  and  by  them  applied,  the  one  half  to  the  support  of  the 
poor  of  the  county,  and  the  other  half  to  the  informer."  4 

In  Mississippi  a  fine  of  fifty  dollars  is  imposed  upon  the 
master  who  permits  his  slave  to  cultivate  cotton  for  his  own 
use  ;  or  who  licenses  his  slave  to  go  at  large  and  trade  as  a 

1  Stroud's  Sketch,  pp.  46,  47.    James's  Digest,  385,  386.    Act  of  1740. 

2  2  Cobb's  Dig.  284.  3  Stroud,  p.  47. 
*  Stroud,  p.  47. 


354  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

freeman  ;  or  who  is  convicted  of  permitting  his  slave  to  keep 
"  stock  of  any  description"  1 

Fourthly.  Stringent  laws  against  emancipation  exist  in 
nearly  all  the  slave  States. 

In  four  of  the  States,  —  South  Carolina,  Georgia,  Ala 
bama,  and  Mississippi,  —  emancipation  cannot  be  effected, 
except  by  a  special  act  of  the  legislature  of  the  State.2 

In  Georgia,  the  offense  of  setting  free  "  any  slave,  or 
slaves,  in  any  other  manner  and  form  than  the  one  pre 
scribed,"  was  punishable,  according  to  the  law  of  1801,  by 
the  forfeiture  of  two  hundred  dollars,  to  be  recovered  by 
action  or  indictment /  the  slaves  in  question  still  remaining 
"  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  as  much  in  a  state  of  slavery 
as  before  they  were  manumitted." 

Believers  in  human  progress  will  be  interested  to  know 
that  since  the  law  of  1801  there  has  been  a  reform  intro 
duced  into  this  part  of  the  legislation  of  the  republic  of 
Georgia.  In  1818,  a  new  law  was  passed,  which,  as  will 
be  seen,  contains  a  grand  remedy  for  the  abuses  of  the  old. 
In  this  it  is  provided,  with  endless  variety  of  specifications 
and  synonyms,  as  if  to  "  let  suspicion  double-lock  the  door  " 
against  any  possible  evasion,  that,  "  All,  and  every  will, 
testament,  and  deed,  whether  by  way  of  trust  or  otherwise, 
contract,  or  agreement,  or  stipulation,  or  other  instrument 
in  writing  or  by  parol,  made  and  executed  for  the  purpose 
of  effecting,  or  endeavoring  to  effect,  the  manumission  of 
any  slave  or  slaves,  either  directly  ...  or  indirectly,  or 
virtually,  etc.,  etc.,  shall  be,  and  the  same  are  hereby,  de 
clared  to  be  utterly  null  and  void."  And  the  guilty  author 
of  the  outrage  against  the  peace  of  the  State,  contemplated 
in  such  deed,  etc.,  etc.,  "  and  all  and  every  person  or  persons 

1  Stroud's  Sketch,  p.  48. 

2  Stroud,  147.    Prince's  Dig.  456.    James's  Dig.  398.     Toulmin's  Dig. 
632.    Miss.  Rev.  Code,  386. 


A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  355 

concerned  in  giving  or  attempting  to  give  effect  thereto, 
...  in  any  way  or  manner  whatsoever,  shall  be  severally 
liable  to  a  penalty  not  exceeding  one  thousand  dollars." 

It  would'  be  quite  anomalous  in  slave  law,  and  contrary 
to  the  "  great  and  fundamental  policy  "  of  slave  States,  if 
the  negroes  who,  not  having  the  fear  of  God  before  their 
eyes,  but  being  instigated  by  the  devil,  should  be  guilty 
of  being  thus  manumitted,  were  suffered  to  go  unpunished ; 
accordingly,  the  law  very  properly  and  judiciously  provides 
that  "  each  and  every  slave  or  slaves  in  whose  behalf  such 
will  and  testament,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  shall  have  been  made, 
shall  be  liable  to  be  arrested  by  warrant,  etc.  ;  and,  being 
thereof  convicted,  etc.,  shall  be  liable  to  be  sold  as  a  slave 
or  slaves  by  public  outcry ;  and  the  proceeds  of  such  slaves 
shall  be  appropriated,  etc.,  etc."  l 

Judge  Stroud  gives  the  following  account  of  the  law  of 
Mississippi :  — 

"  The  emancipation  must  be  by  an  instrument  in  writing,  a  last 
will  or  deed,  etc.,  under  seal,  attested  by  at  least  two  credible  wit 
nesses,  or  acknowledged  in  the  court  of  the  county  or  corporation 
where  the  emancipator  resides ;  proof  satisfactory  to  the  General 
Assembly  must  be  adduced  that  the  slave  has  done  some  merito 
rious  act  for  the  benefit  of  his  master,  or  rendered  some  distinguished 
service  to  the  State  ;  all  which  circumstances  are  but  prerequisites, 
and  are  of  no  efficacy  until  a  special  act  of  Assembly  sanctions 
the  emancipation ;  to  which  may  be  added,  as  has  been  already 
stated,  a  saving  of  the  rights  of  creditors,  and  the  protection  of 
the  widow's  thirds."  2 

The  same  prerequisite  of  "  meritorious  services,  to  be 
adjudged  of  and  allowed  by  the  county  court,"  is  exacted 
by  an  act  of  the  General  Assembly  of  North  Carolina  ;  and 
all  slaves  emancipated  contrary  to  the  provisions  of  this  act 
are  to  be  committed  to  the  jail  of  the  county,  and  at  the 
next  court  held  for  that  county  are  to  be  sold  to  the  highest 
bidder. 

1  Stroud's  Sketch,  pp.  147, 148.     Prince's  Dig.  466. 

2  Stroud,  p.  149.    Miss.  Rev.  Code,  385,  086  (Act  June  18, 1822). 


356  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

But  the  law  of  North  Carolina  does  not  refuse  opportu 
nity  for  repentance,  even  after  the  crime  has  been  proved  : 
accordingly,  — 

"  The  sheriff  is  directed,  five  days  before  the  time  for  the 
sale  of  the  emancipated  negro,  to  give  notice,  in  writing,  to  the 
person  by  whom  the  emancipation  was  made,  to  the  end,"  l 

and  with  the  hope  that,  smitten  by  remorse  of  conscience, 
and  brought  to  a  sense  of  his  guilt  before  God  and  man, 

"  such  person  may,  if  he  thinks  proper,  renew  his  claim  to  the 
negro  so  emancipated  by  him  ;  on  failure  to  do  which,  the 
sale  is  to  be  made  by  the  sheriff,  and  one  fifth  part  of  the  net 
proceeds  is  to  become  the  property  of  the  freeholder  by  whom 
the  apprehension  was  made,  and  the  remaining  four  fifths  are 
to  be  paid  into  the  public  treasury." 

It  is  proper  to  add  that  we  have  given  examples  of  the 
laws  of  States  whose  legislation  on  this  subject  has  been 
most  severe.  The  laws  of  Virginia,  Maryland,  Missouri, 
Kentucky,  and  Louisiana  are  much  less  stringent.2 

Nothing  more  forcibly  shows  the  absolute  despotism  of 
the  slave  law  over  all  the  kindest  feelings  and  intentions 
of  the  master,  and  the  determination  of  courts  to  carry  these 
severities  to  their  full  lengths,  than  this  cruel  deed,  which 
precipitated  a  young  man  who  had  been  educated  to  con 
sider  himself  free,  and  his  mother,  an  educated  woman, 
back  into  the  bottomless  abyss  of  slavery.  Had  this  case 
been  chosen  for  the  theme  of  a  novel,  or  a  tragedy,  the  world 
would  have  cried  out  upon  it  as  a  plot  of  monstrous  improb 
ability.  As  it  stands  in  the  law-book,  it  is  only  a  speci 
men  of  that  awful  kind  of  truth,  stranger  than  fiction,  which 
is  all  the  time  evolving,  in  one  form  or  another,  from  the 
workings  of  this  anomalous  system. 

This  view  of  the  subject   is  a  very  important  one,  and 

1  Stroud's  Sketch,  p.  148.     Haywood's  Manual,  525,  526,  529,  537. 

2  Stroud,  pp.  148-154. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  357 

ought  to  be  earnestly  and  gravely  pondered  by  those  in  for 
eign  countries,  who  are  too  apt  to  fasten  their  condemnation 
and  opprobrium  rather  on  the  person  of  the  slave-holder 
than  on  the  horrors  of  the  legal  system.  In  some  slave 
States  it  seems  as  if  there  was  very  little  that  the  benevolent 
owner  could  do  which  should  permanently  benefit  his  slave, 
unless  he  should  seek  to  alter  the  laws.  Here  it  is  that 
the  highest  obligation  of  the  Southern  Christian  lies.  Nor 
will  the  world  or  God  hold  them  guiltless  who,  with  the 
elective  franchise  in  their  hands,  and  the  full  power  to 
speak,  write,  and  discuss,  suffer  this  monstrous  system  of 
legalized  cruelty  to  go  on  from  age  to  age. 

CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    HEBREW    SLAVE    LAW    COMPARED   WITH   THE   AMERI 
CAN    SLAVE    LAW. 


CHAPTER  XV 

SLAVERY    IS    DESPOTISM 

It  is  always  important,  in  discussing  a  thing,  to  keep 
before  our  minds  exactly  what  it  is. 

The  only  means  of  understanding  precisely  \vhat  a  civil 
institution  is,  is  an  examination  of  the  laws  which  regulate 
it.  In  different  ages  and  nations,  very  different  things 
have  been  called  by  the  name  of  slavery.  Patriarchal  ser 
vitude  was  one  thing,  Hebrew  servitude  was  another,  Greek 
and  Roman  servitude  still  a  third  ;  and  these  institutions 
differed  very  much  from  each  other.  What,  then,  is  Ameri 
can  slavery,  as  we  have  seen  it  exhibited  by  law,  and  by 
the  decisions  of  courts  ? 


358  A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S  CABIN 

Let  us  begin  by  stating  what  it  is  not. 

1.  It  is  not  apprenticeship. 

2.  It  is  not  guardianship. 

3.  It    is  in    no    sense  a  system  for  the  education  of  a 
weaker  race  by  a  stronger. 

4.  The   happiness    of   the    governed    is  in  no  sense   its 
object. 

5.  The  temporal  improvement  or  the  eternal  well-being 
of  the  governed  is  in  no  sense  its  object. 

The  object  of  it  has  been  distinctly  stated  in  one  sentence, 
by  Judge  Ruffin,  —  "  The  end  is  the  profit  of  the  master, 
his  security,  and  the  public  safety." 

Slavery,  then,  is  absolute  despotism,  of  the  most  unmiti 
gated  form. 

It  would,  however,  be  doing  injustice  to  the  absolutism 
of  any  civilized  country  to  liken  American  slavery  to  it. 
The  absolute  governments  of  Europe  none  of  them  pretend 
to  be  founded  on  a  property  right  of  the  governor  to  the 
persons  and  entire  capabilities  of  the  governed. 

This  is  a  form  of  despotism  which  exists  only  in  some  of 
the  most  savage  countries  of  the  world  ;  as,  for  example,  in 
Dahomey. 

The  European  absolutism  or  despotism,  now,  does,  to 
some  extent,  recognize  the  happiness  and  welfare  of  the 
governed  as  the  foundation  of  government ;  and  the  ruler 
is  considered  as  invested  with  power  for  the  benefit  of  the 
people  ;  and  his  right  to  rule  is  supposed  to  be  in  some 
what  predicated  upon  the  idea  that  he  better  understands 
how  to  promote  the  good  of  the  people  than  they  them 
selves  do.  No  government  in  the  civilized  world  now 
presents  the  pure  despotic  idea,  as  it  existed  in  the  old  days 
of  the  Persian  and  Assyrian  rule. 

The  arguments  which  defend  slavery  must  be  substantially 
the  same  as  those  which  defend  despotism  of  any  other 
kind  ;  and  the  objections  which  are  to  be  urged  against  it 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S  CABIN  359 

are  precisely  those  which  can  be  urged  against  despotism  of 
any  other  kind.  The  customs  and  practices  to  which  it 
gives  rise  are  precisely  those  to  which  despotisms  in  all  ages 
have  given  rise. 

Is  the  slave  suspected  of  a  crime  ?  His  master  has  the 
power  to  examine  him  by  torture  (see  State  v.  Castleman). 
His  master  has,  in  fact,  in  most  cases,  the  power  of  life  and 
death,  owing  to  the  exclusion  of  the  slave's  evidence.  He 
has  the  power  of  banishing  the  slave,  at  any  time,  and  with 
out  giving  an  account  to  anybody,  to  an  exile  as  dreadful 
as  that  of  Siberia,  and  to  labors  as  severe  as  those  of  the 
galleys.  He  has  also  unlimited  power  over  the  character  of 
his  slave.  He  can  accuse  him  of  any  crime,  yet  withhold 
from  him  all  right  of  trial  or  investigation,  and  sell  him 
into  captivity,  with  his  name  blackened  by  an  unexamined 
imputation. 

These  are  all  abuses  for  which  despotic  governments  are 
blamed.  They  are  powers  which  good  men  who  are  des 
potic  rulers  are  beginning  to  disuse  ;  but  under  the  flag  of 
every  slave-holding  State,  and  under  the  flag  of  the  whole 
United  States  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  they  are  com 
mitted  indiscriminately  to  men  of  any  character. 

But  the  worst  kind  of  despotism  has  been  said  to  be  that 
which  extends  alike  over  the  body  and  over  the  soul; 
which  can  bind  the  liberty  of  the  conscience,  and  deprive  a 
man  of  all  right  of  choice  in  respect  to  the  manner  in  which 
he  shall  learn  the  will  of  God,  and  worship  Him.  In  other 
days,  kings  on  their  thrones,  and  cottagers  by  their  firesides, 
alike  trembled  before  a  despotism  which  declared  itself  able 
to  bind  and  to  loose,  to  open  and  to  shut  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

Yet  this  power  to  control  the  conscience,  to  control  the 
religious  privileges,  and  all  the  opportunities  which  man 
has  of  acquaintanceship  with  his  Maker,  and  of  learning 
to  do  his  will,  is,  under  the  flag  of  every  slave  State,  and 


360  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

under  the  flag  of  the  United  States,  placed  in  the  hands  of 
any  men,  of  any  character,  who  can  afford  to  pay  for  it. 

It  is  a  most  awful  and  most  solemn  truth  that  the  great 
est  republic  in  the  world  does  sustain  under  her  national 
flag  the  worst  system  of  despotism  which  can  possibly  exist. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  361 


PART   III 
CHAPTER  I 

DOES  PUBLIC  OPINION  PROTECT  THE  SLAVE? 

THE  utter  inefficiency  of  the  law  to  protect  the  slave  in 
any  respect  has  been  shown.  But  it  is  claimed  that,  pre 
cisely  because  the  law  affords  the  slave  no  protection,  there 
fore  public  opinion  is  the  more  strenuous  in  his  behalf. 

Nothing  more  frequently  strikes  the  eye,  in  running  over 
judicial  proceedings  in  the  courts  of  slave  States,  than  an 
nouncements  of  the  utter  inutility  of  the  law  to  rectify  some 
glaring  injustice  towards  this  unhappy  race,  coupled  with 
congratulatory  remarks  on  that  beneficent  state  of  public 
sentiment  which  is  to  supply  entirely  this  acknowledged 
deficiency  of  the  law. 

On  this  point  it  may,  perhaps,  be  sufficient  to  ask  the 
reader,  whether  North  or  South,  to  review  in  his  own  mind 
the  judicial  documents  which  we  have  presented,  and  ask 
himself  what  inference  is  to  be  drawn,  as  to  the  state  of 
public  sentiment,  from  the  cases  there  presented,  —  from 
the  pleas  of  lawyers,  the  decisions  of  judges,  the  facts  sworn 
to  by  witnesses,  and  the  general  style  and  spirit  of  the  whole 
proceedings. 

In  order  to  appreciate  this  more  fully,  let  us  compare  a 
trial  in  a  free  State  with  a  trial  in  a  slave  State. 

In  the  free  State  of  Massachusetts,  a  man  of  standing, 
learning,  and  high  connections  murdered  another  man.  He 
did  not  torture  him,  but  with  one  blow  sent  him  in  a  moment 
from  life.  The  murderer  had  every  advantage  of  position, 
of  friends  ;  it  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  he  had  the  sympathy 


362  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

of  the  whole  United  States ;  yet  how  calmly,  with  what 
unmoved  and  awful  composure,  did  the  judicial  examination 
proceed  !  The  murderer  was  condemned  to  die  —  what  a 
sensation  shook  the  country  !  Even  sovereign  States  as 
sumed  the  attitude  of  petitioners  for  him. 

There  was  a  voice  of  entreaty,  from  Maine  to  New  Or 
leans.  There  were  remonstrances,  and  there  were  threats  ; 
but  still,  with  what  passionless  calmness  retributive  justice 
held  on  its  way  !  Though  the  men  who  were  her  instru 
ments  were  men  of  merciful  and  bleeding  hearts,  yet  they 
bowed  in  silence  to  her  sublime  will.  In  spite  of  all  that 
influence,  and  wealth,  and  power  could  do,  a  cultivated  and 
intelligent  man,  from  the  first  rank  of  society,  suffered  the 
same  penalty  that  would  fall  on  any  other  man  who  violated 
the  sanctity  of  human  life. 

Now,  compare  this  with  a  trial  in  a  slave  State.  In 
Virginia,  Souther  also  murdered  a  man ;  but  he  did  not 
murder  him  by  one  merciful  blow,  but  by  twelve  hours  of 
torture  so  horrible  that  few  readers  could  bear  even  the 
description  of  it.  It  was  a  mode  of  death  which,  to  use  the 
language  that  Cicero  in  his  day  applied  to  crucifixion,  "  ought 
to  be  forever  removed  from  the  sight,  hearing,  and  from  the 
very  thoughts  of  mankind.'7  And  to  this  horrible  scene 
two  white  men  were  WITNESSES  ! 

Observe  the  mode  in  which  these  two  cases  were  tried, 
and  the  general  sensation  they  produced.  Hear  the  lawyers, 
in  this  case  of  Souther,  coolly  debating  whether  it  can  be 
considered  any  crime  at  all.  Hear  the  decision  of  the  in 
ferior  court,  that  it  is  murder  in  the  second  degree,  and  ap 
portioning  as  its  reward  five  years  of  imprisonment.  See  the 
horrible  butcher  coming  up  to  the  Superior  Court  in  the 
attitude  of  an  injured  man  !  See  the  case  recorded  as  that 
of  Souther  VERSUS  The  Commonwealth,  and  let  us  ask  any 
intelligent  man,  North  or  South,  what  sort  of  public  senti 
ment  does  this  show  ! 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  363 

Does  it  show  a  belief  that  the  negro  is  a  man  ?  Does  it 
not  show  decidedly  that  he  is  not  considered  as  a  man  ? 
Consider  further  the  horrible  principle  which,,  reaffirmed 
in  the  case,  is  the  law  of  the  land  in  Virginia.  It  is  the 
policy  of  the  law,  in  respect  to  the  relation  of  master 
and  slave,  and  for  the  sake  of  securing  proper  subordina 
tion  on  the  part  of  the  slave,  to  protect  the  master  from 
prosecution  in  all  such  cases,  even  if  the  whipping  and 
punishment  be  malicious,  cruel,  and  excessive  ! 

When  the  most  cultivated  and  intelligent  men  in  the 
State  formally,  calmly,  and  without  any  apparent  percep 
tion  of  saying  anything  inhuman,  utter  such  an  astounding 
decision  as  this,  what  can  be  thought  of  it  ?  If  they  do  not 
consider  this  cruel,  what  is  cruel  ?  And  if  their  feelings 
are  so  blunted  as  to  see  no  cruelty  in  such  a  decision,  what 
hope  is  there  of  any  protection  to  the  slave  ? 

'This  law  is  a  plain  and  distinct  permission  to  such  wretches 
as  Souther  to  inflict  upon  the  helpless  slave  any  torture  they 
may  choose,  without  any  accusation  or  impeachment  of  crime. 
It  distinctly  tells  Souther,  and  the  white  witnesses  who  saw 
his  deed,  and  every  other  low,  unprincipled  man  in  the 
court,  that  it  is  the  policy  of  the  law  to  protect  him  in  mali 
cious,  cruel,  and  excessive  punishments. 

What  sort  of  an  education  is  this  for  the  intelligent  and 
cultivated  men  of  a  State  to  communicate  to  the  lower  and 
less-educated  class  ?  Suppose  it  to  be  solemnly  announced 
in  Massachusetts,  with  respect  to  free  laborers  or  apprentices, 
that  it  is  the  policy  of  the  law,  for  the  sake  of  producing 
subordination,  to  protect  the  master  in  inflicting  any  punish 
ment,  however  cruel,  malicious,  and  excessive,  short  of  death. 
We  cannot  imagine  such  a  principle  declared,  without  a 
rebellion  and  a  storm  of  popular  excitement  to  which  that  of 
Bunker  Hill  was  calmness  itself ;  but  supposing  the  State 
of  Massachusetts  were  so  "  twice  dead  and  plucked  up  by  the 
roots"  as  to  allow  such  a  decision  to  pass  without  comment 


364  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE  TOM'S    CABIN 

concerning  her  working  classes,  —  suppose  it  did  pass,  and 
become  an  active,  operative  reality,  what  kind  of  an  educa 
tional  influence  would  it  exert  upon  the  commonwealth  ? 
What  kind  of  an  estimate  of  the  working  classes  would  it 
show  in  the  minds  of  those  who  make  and  execute  the  law  ? 

What  an  immediate  development  of  villainy  and  brutality 
would  be  brought  out  by  such  a  law,  avowedly  made  to  pro 
tect  men  in  cruelty  !  Cannot  men  be  cruel  enough,  with 
out  all  the  majesty  of  law  being  brought  into  operation  to 
sanction  it,  and  make  it  reputable  ? 

And  suppose  it  were  said,  in  vindication  of  such  a  law, 
"  Oh,  of  course,  no  respectable,  humane  man  would  ever 
think  of  taking  advantage  of  it."  Should  we  not  think  the 
old  State  of  Massachusetts  sunk  very  low,  to  have  on  her 
legal  records  direct  assurances  of  protection  to  deeds  which 
no  decent  man  would  ever  do  ? 

The  whole  American  nation  is,  in  some  sense,  under  a 
paralysis  of  public  sentiment  on  this  subject.  It  was  said 
by  a  heathen  writer  that  the  gods  gave  us  a  fearful  power 
when  they  gave  us  the  faculty  of  becoming  accustomed  to 
things.  This  power  has  proved  a  fearful  one  indeed  in 
America.  We  have  got  used  to  things  which  might  stir 
the  dead  in  their  graves. 

When  but  a  small  portion  of  the  things  daily  done  in 
America  has  been  told  in  England,  and  France,  and  Italy, 
and  Germany,  there  has  been  a  perfect  shriek  and  outcry 
of  horror.  America  alone  remains  cool,  and  asks,  "  What 
is  the  matter  ?  " 

Europe  answers  back,  "Why,  we  have  heard  that  men 
are  sold  like  cattle  in  your  country." 

"  Of  course  they  are,"  says  America  ;  "  but  what  then  ?  " 

"  We  have  heard,"  says  Europe,  "  that  millions  of  men 
are  forbidden  to  read  or  write  in  your  country." 

"  We  know  that,"  says  America ;  "  but  what  is  this  out 
cry  about  ?  " 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN  365 

"  We  have  heard,"  says  Europe,  "  that  Christian  girls  are 
sold  to  shame  in  your  markets  !  " 

"  That  isn't  quite  as  it  should  be/'  says  America  ;  "but 
still,  what  is  this  excitement  about  ?  " 

"  We  hear  that  three  millions  of  your  people  can  have 
no  legal  marriage  ties,"  says  Europe. 

"  Certainly  that  is  true,"  returns  America  ;  "  but  you 
made  such  an  outcry,  we  thought  you  saw  some  great  cruelty 
going  on." 

"  And  you  profess  to  be  a  free  country  !  "  says  indignant 
Europe. 

"  Certainly  we  are  the  freest  and  most  enlightened 
country  in  the  world,  —  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 
says  America. 

"You  send  your  missionaries  to  Christianize  us,"  says 
Turkey ;  "  and  our  religion  has  abolished  this  horrible 
system." 

"  You  !  you  are  all  heathen  over  there,  —  what  business 
have  you  to  talk  ?  "  answers  America. 

Many  people  seem  really  to  have  thought  that  nothing 
but  horrible  exaggerations  of  the  system  of  slavery  could 
have  produced  the  sensation  which  has  recently  been  felt  in 
all  modern  Europe.  They  do  not  know  that  the  thing  they 
have  become  accustomed  to,  and  handled  so  freely  in  every 
discussion,  seems  to  all  other  nations  the  sum  and  essence 
of  villainy.  Modern  Europe,  opening  her  eyes  and  looking 
on  the  legal  theory  of  the  slave  system,  on  the  laws  and 
interpretations  of  law  which  define  it,  says  to  America,  in 
the  language  of  the  indignant  Othello,  If  thou  wilt  justify 
a  thing  like  this, 

"  Never  pray  more  ;  abandon  all  remorse  ; 
On  Horror's  head  horrors  accumulate  ; 
Do  deeds  to  make  heaven  weep,  all  earth  amazed  ; 
For  nothing  canst  thou  to  damnation  add 
Greater  than  this." 


366  A   KEY  TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

CHAPTER  II 

PUBLIC    OPINION    FORMED    BY    EDUCATION 


Let  us  now  inquire  what  are  the  educational  influences 
which  bear  upon  the  mind  educated  in  constant  familiarity 
with  the  slave  system. 

Take  any  child  of  ingenuous  mind  and  of  generous  heart, 
and  educate  him  under  the  influences  of  slavery,  and  what 
are  the  things  which  go  to  form  his  character  ?  An  an 
ecdote  which  a  lady  related  to  the  writer  may  be  in  point 
in  this  place.  In  giving  an  account  of  some  of  the  things 
which  induced  her  to  remove  her  family  from  under  the 
influence  of  slavery,  she  related  the  following  incident : 
Looking  out  of  her  nursery  window  one  day,  she  saw  her 
daughter,  about  three  years  of  age,  seated  in  her  little  car 
riage,  with  six  or  eight  young  negro  children  harnessed  into 
it  for  horses.  Two  or  three  of  the  older  slaves  were  stand 
ing  around  their  little  mistress,  and  one  of  them,  putting  a 
whip  into  her  hand,  said,  "  There,  Misse,  whip  'em  well ; 
make  7em  go  —  they  're  all  your  niggers." 

What  a  moral  and  religious  lesson  was  this  for  that  young 
soul  !  The  mother  was  a  judicious  woman,  who  never 
would  herself  have  taught  such  a  thing  ;  but  the  whole 
influence  of  slave  society  had  burnt  it  into  the  soul  of  every 
negro,  and  through  them  it  was  communicated  to  the  child. 

As  soon  as  a  child  is  old  enough  to  read  the  newspapers, 
he  sees  in  every  column  such  notices  as  the  following  from 
a  late  "  Richmond  Whig." 

LARGE    SALE    OF    NEGROES,    HORSES,    MULES,    CATTLE,    ETC. 

The  subscriber,  under  a  decree  of  the  Circuit  Superior  Court 
for  Fluvanna  County,  will  proceed  to  sell,  by  public  auction, 
at  the  late  residence  of  William  Gait,  deceased,  on  TUESDAY, 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  367 

the  30th  day  of  November,  and  WEDNESDAY,  the  1st  day  of 
December  next,  beginning  at  11  o'clock,  the  negroes,  stock,  etc., 
of  all  kinds,  belonging  to  the  estate,  consisting  of  175  negroes, 
amongst  whom  are  SOME  CARPENTERS  AND  BLACKSMITHS,  —  10 
horses,  33  mules,  100  head  of  cattle,  100  sheep,  200  hogs,  1500 
barrels  corn,  oats,  fodder,  etc.,  the  plantation  and  shop  tools  of 
all  kinds. 

The  Negroes  will  be  sold  for  cash ;  the  other  property  on  a 
credit  of  nine  months,  the  purchaser  giving  bond,  with  approved 
security. 

JAMES  GALT,  Administrator  of 
William  Gait,  deceased. 

Oct.  19. 

We  have  spoken  now  of  only  the  common  advertisements 
of  the  paper ;  but  suppose  the  child  to  live  in  some  districts 
of  the  country,  and  advertisements  of  a  still  more  degrading 
character  meet  his  eye.  In  the  State  of  Alabama,  a  news 
paper  devoted  to  politics,  literature,  and  EDUCATION  has  a 
standing  weekly  advertisement  of  which  this  is  a  copy :  — 

NOTICE. 

The  undersigned   having  an  excellent  pack 
of  HOUNDS,  for  trailing  and  catching  runaway 
slaves,  informs  the  public  that  his  prices  in  future  will 
be  as  follows  for  such  services  :  — 

For  each  day  employed  in  hunting  or  trailing  .     .     .     .     $2.50 

For  catching  each  slave 10.00 

For  going  over  ten  miles,  and  catching  slaves    ....     20.00 

If  sent  for,  the  above  prices  will  be  exacted  in  cash.  The 
subscriber  resides  one  mile  and  a  half  south  of  Dadeville,  Ala. 

B.  BLACK. 

Dadeville,  Sept.  1,  1852.  1-tf 

The  reader  will  see,  by  the  printer's  sign  at  the  bottom, 
that  it  is  a  season  advertisement,  and,  therefore,  would  meet 
the  eye  of  the  child  week  after  week.  The  paper  from 
\vhich  we  have  cut  this  contains  among  its  extracts  passages 
from  Dickens's  "  Household  Words,"  from  Prof essor  Eelton's 


368  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

article  in  the  "  Christian  Examiner  "  on  the  relation  of  the 
sexes,  and  a  most  beautiful  and  chivalrous  appeal  from  the 
eloquent  Senator  Soule  on  the  legal  rights  of  women.  Let 
us  now  ask,  since  this  paper  is  devoted  to  education,  what 
sort  of  an  educational  influence  such  advertisements  have. 
And,  of  course,  such  an  establishment  is  not  kept  up  with 
out  patronage.  Where  there  are  negro-hunters  advertising 
in  a  paper,  there  are  also  negro-hunts,  and  there  are  dogs  be 
ing  trained  to  hunt ;  and  all  this  process  goes  on  before  the 
eyes  of  children  ;  and  what  sort  of  an  education  is  it  ? 

The  writer  has  received  an  account  of  the  way  in  which 
dogs  are  trained  for  this  business.  The  information  has 
been  communicated  to  the  gentleman  who  writes  it  by  a 
negro  man,  who,  having  been  always  accustomed  to  see  it 
done,  described  it  with  as  little  sense  of  there  being  any 
thing  out  of  the  way  in  it  as  if  the  dogs  had  been  trained 
to  catch  raccoons.  It  came  to  the  writer  in  a  recent  letter 
from  the  South. 

"  The  way  to  train  'em  [says  the  man]  is  to  take  these  yer 
pups  —  any  kind  o'  pups  will  do,  —  fox-hounds,  bull-dogs,  most 
any  ;  —  but  take  the  pups,  and  keep  'em  shut  up,  and  don't  let 
'em  never  see  a  nigger  till  they  get  big  enough  to  be  larned. 
When  the  pups  gits  old  enough  to  be  set  on  to  things,  then 
make  'em  run  after  a  nigger ;  and  when  they  cotches  him,  give 
'em  meat.  Tell  the  nigger  to  run  as  hard  as  he  can,  and  git  up 
in  a  tree,  so  as  to  larn  the  dogs  to  tree  'em ;  then  take  the  shoe 
of  a  nigger,  and  larn  'em  to  find  the  nigger  it  belongs  to ;  then 
a  rag  of  his  clothes ;  and  so  on.  Allers  be  earful  to  tree  the 
nigger,  and  teach  the  dog  to  wait  and  bark  under  the  tree  till 
you  come  up  and  give  him  his  meat." 

See  also  the  following  advertisement  from  the  "  Ouachita 
Register,"  a  newspaper  dated  "  Monroe,  La.,  Tuesday  even 
ing,  June  1,  1852." 

NEGRO   DOGS. 

The  undersigned  would  respectfully  inform  the  citizens  of 
Ouachita  and  adjacent  parishes,  that  he  has  located  about  2^ 


A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  369 

miles  east  of  John  White's,  011  the  road  leading  from  Monroe 
to  Bastrop,  and  that  he  has  a  fine  pack  of  Dogs  for  catching 
negroes.  Persons  wishing  negroes  caught  will  do  well  to  give 
him  a  call.  He  can  always  be  found  at  his  stand  when  not 
engaged  in  hunting,  and  even  then  information  of  his  where 
abouts  can  always  be  had  of  some  one  on  the  premises. 

Terms.  —  Five  dollars  per  day  and  found,  when  there  is  no 
track  pointed  out.  When  the  track  is  shown,  twenty-five  dol 
lars  will  be  charged  for  catching  the  negro. 

M.  C.  GOFF. 
Monroe,  Feb.  17,  1852.  15-3m 

Now,  do  not  all  the  scenes  likely  to  be  enacted  under 
this  head  form  a  fine  education  for  the  children  of  a  Chris 
tian  nation  ?  and  can  we  wonder  if  children  so  formed  see 
no  cruelty  in  slavery  ?  Can  children  realize  that  creatures 
who  are  thus  hunted  are  children  of  one  heavenly  Father 
with  themselves  ? 

But  suppose  the  boy  grows  up  to  be  a  man,  and  attends 
the  courts  of  justice,  and  hears  intelligent,  learned  men  de 
claring  from  the  bench  that  "  the  mere  beating  of  a  slave, 
unaccompanied  by  any  circumstances  of  cruelty,  or  an 
attempt  to  kill,  is  no  breach  of  the  peace  of  the  State." 
Suppose  he  hears  it  decided  in  the  same  place  that  no 
insult  or  outrage  upon  any  slave  is  considered  worthy 
of  legal  redress,  unless  it  impairs  his  property  value. 
Suppose  he  hears,  as  he  would  in  Virginia,  that  it  is  the 
policy  of  the  law  to  protect  the  master  even  in  inflicting 
cruel,  malicious,  and  excessive  punishment  upon  the  slave. 
Suppose  a  slave  is  murdered,  and  he  hears  the  lawyers  ar 
guing  that  it  cannot  be  considered  a  murder,  because  the 
slave,  in  law,  is  not  considered  a  human  being ;  and  then 
suppose  the  case  is  appealed  to  a  superior  court,  and  he 
hears  the  judge  expending  his  forces  on  a  long  and  eloquent 
dissertation  to  prove  that  the  slave'  is  a  human  being  ;  at 
least,  that  he  is  as  much  so  as  a  lunatic,  an  idiot,  or  an 
unborn  child,  and  that,  therefore,  he  can  be  murdered. 


370  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

Suppose  he  sees  that  all  the  administration  of  law  with 
regard  to  the  slave  proceeds  on  the  idea  that  he  is  abso 
lutely  nothing  more  than  a  bale  of  merchandise.  Suppose 
he  hears  such  language  as  this,  which  occurs  in  the  reason 
ings  of  the  Brazealle  case,  and  which  is  a  fair  sample  of  the 
manner  in  which  such  subjects  are  ordinarily  discussed. 
"  The  slave  has  no  more  political  capacity,  no  more  right  to 
purchase,  hold,  or  transfer  property,  than  the  mule  in  his 
plough  ;  he  is  in  himself  but  a  mere  chattel,  —  the  subject 
of  absolute  ownership."  Suppose  he  sees  on  the  statue-book 
such  sentences  as  these,  from  the  civil  code  of  Louisiana  :  — 

Art.  2500.  The  latent  defects  of  slaves  and  animals  are  di 
vided  into  two  classes,  —  vices  of  body  and  vices  of  character. 

Art.  2501.  The  vices  of  body  are  distinguished  into  absolute 
and  relative. 

Art.  2502.  The  absolute  vices  of  slaves  are  leprosy,  madness, 
and  epilepsy. 

Art.  2503.  The  absolute  vices  of  horses  and  mules  are  short 
wind,  glanders,  and  founder. 

The  influence  of  this  language  is  made  all  the  stronger 
on  the  young  mind  from  the  fact  that  it  is  not  the  lan 
guage  of  contempt,  or  of  passion,  but  calm,  matter-of-fact, 
legal  statement. 

What  effect  must  be  produced  on  the  mind  of  the  young 
man  when  he  comes  to  see  that,  however  atrocious  and  how 
ever  well-proved  be  the  murder  of  a  slave,  the  murderer  uni 
formly  escapes  ;  and  that,  though  the  cases  where  the  slave 
has  fallen  a  victim  to  passions  of  the  white  are  so  multi 
plied,  yet  the  fact  of  an  execution  for  such  a  crime  is  yet 
almost  unknown  in  the  country  ?  Does  not  all  this  tend 
to  produce  exactly  that  estimate  of  the  value  of  negro  life 
and  happiness  which  Frederic  Douglass  says  was  expressed 
by  a  common  proverb  among  the  white  boys  where  he  was 
brought  up :  "  It 's  worth  sixpence  to  kill  a  nigger,  and  six 
pence  more  to  bury  him"  ? 


A  KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  371 

CHAPTER  III 

SEPARATION    OF    FAMILIES 

"What  must  the  difference  be,"  said  Dr.  Worthington,  with  startling 
energy,  "  between  Isabel  and  her  servants  !  To  her  it  is  loss  of  position, 
fortune,  the  fair  hopes  of  life,  perhaps  even  health ;  for  she  must  inevita- 
blv  break  down  under  the  unaccustomed  labor  and  privations  she  will 
have  to  undergo.  But  to  them  it  is  merely  a  change  of  masters  !  " 

"Yes,  for  the  neighbors  won't  allow  any  of  the  families  to  be  sepa 
rated." 

"  Of  course  not.  We  read  of  such  things  in  novels  sometimes.  But  I 
have  yet  to  see  it  in  real  life,  except  in  rare  cases,  or  where  the  slave  has 
been  guilty  of  some  misdemeanor,  or  crime,  for  which,  in  the  North,  he 
would  have  been  imprisoned,  perhaps  for  life." — Cabin  and  Parlor,  by 
J.  THORNTON  RANDOLPH,  p.  39. 

"But  they're  going  to  sell  us  all  to  Georgia,  I  say.  How  are  we  to 
escape  that?" 

"Spec  dare  some  mistake  in  dat,"  replied  Uncle  Peter  stoutly.  "I 
nebber  knew  of  sich  a  ting  in  dese  parts,  'cept  where  some  niggar  'd  been 
berry  bad."  — Ibid. 

By  such  graphic  touches  as  the  ahove  does  Mr.  Thorn 
ton  Randolph  represent  to  us  the  patriarchal  stability  and 
security  of  the  slave  population  in  the  Old  Dominion. 
Such  a  thing  as  a  slave  being  sold  out  of  the  State  has 
never  been  heard  of  by  Dr.  Worthington,  except  in  rare 
cases  for  some  crime ;  and  old  Uncle  Peter  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing  in  his  life. 

Are  these  representations  true  ? 

The  worst  abuse  of  the  system  of  slavery  is  its  outrage 
upon  the  family  ;  and,  as  the  writer  views  the  subject,  it  is 
one  which  is  more  -notorious  and  undeniable  than  any  other. 

Yet  it  is  upon  this  point  that  the  most  stringent  and 
earnest  denial  has  been  made  to  the  representations  of 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  either  indirectly,  as  by  the  romance- 
writer  above,  or  more  directly  in  the  assertions  of  news 
papers,  both  at  the  North  and  at  the  South.  When  made 
at  the  North,  they  indicate,  to  say  the  least,  very  great 


372  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

ignorance  of  the  subject ;  when  made  at  the  South,  they 
certainly  do  very  great  injustice  to  the  general  character  of 
the  Southerner  for  truth  and  honesty.  All  sections  of 
country  have  faults  peculiar  to  themselves.  The  fault  of 
the  South,  as  a  general  thing,  has  not  been  cowardly  evasion 
and  deception.  It  was  with  utter  surprise  that  the  author 
read  the  following  sentences  in  an  article  in  "Eraser's 
Magazine,"  professing  to  come  from  a  South  Carolinian. 

"  Mrs.  Stowe's  favorite  illustration  of  the  master's  power  to 
the  injury  of  the  slave  is  the  separation  of  families.  We  are 
told  of  infants  of  ten  months  old  being  sold  from  the  arms  of 
their  mothers,  and  of  men  whose  habit  it  is  to  raise  children  to 
sell  away  from  their  mother  as  soon  as  they  are  old  enough 
to  be  separated.  Were  our  views  of  this  feature  of  slavery 
derived  from  Mrs.  Stowe's  book,  we  should  regard  the  families 
of  slaves  as  utterly  unsettled  and  vagrant." 

And  again :  — 

"  We  feel  confident  that,  if  statistics  could  be  had  to  throw 
light  upon  this  subject,  we  should  find  that  there  is  less  sepa 
ration  of  families  among  the  negroes  than  occurs  with  almost 
any  other  class  of  persons." 

As  the  author  of  this  article,  however,  is  evidently  a 
man  of  honor,  and  expresses  many  most  noble  and  praise 
worthy  sentiments,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  these  state 
ments  were  put  forth  with  any  view  to  misrepresent,  or  to 
deceive.  They  are  only  to  be  regarded  as  evidences  of  the 
facility  with  which  a  sanguine  mind  often  overlooks  the 
most  glaring  facts  that  make  against  a  favorite  idea  or 
theory,  or  which  are  unfavorable  in  their  bearings  on  one's 
own  country  or  family.  Thus  the  citizens  of  some  place 
notoriously  unhealthy  will  come  to  believe,  and  assert,  with 
the  utmost  sincerity,  that  there  is  actually  less  sickness  in 
their  town  than  any  other  of  its  size  in  the  known  world. 
Thus  parents  often  think  their  children  perfectly  immacu 
late  in  just  those  particulars  in  which  others  see  them  to 
be  most  faulty.  This  solution  of  the  phenomena  is  a  natural 


A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  373 

and  amiable  one,  and  enables  us  to  retain  our  respect  for 
our  Southern  brethren. 

There  is  another  circumstance,  also,  to  be  taken  into 
account,  in  reading  such  assertions  as  these.  It  is  evident, 
from  the  pamphlet  in  question,  that  the  writer  is  one  of  the 
few  who  regard  the  possession  of  absolute  irresponsible 
power  as  the  highest  of  motives  to  moderation  and  temper 
ance  in  its  use.  Such  men  are  commonly  associated  in 
friendship  and  family  connection  with  others  of  similar 
views,  and  are  very  apt  to  fall  into  the  error  of  judging 
others  by  themselves,  and  thinking  that  a  thing  may  do  for 
all  the  world  because  it  operates  well  in  their  immediate 
circle.  Also  it  cannot  but  be  a  fact  that  the  various  cir 
cumstances  which  from  infancy  conspire  to  degrade  and 
depress  the  negro  in  the  eyes  of  a  Southern-born  man,  — 
the  constant  habit  of  speaking  of  them,  and  hearing  them 
spoken  of,  and  seeing  them  advertised,  as  mere  articles  of 
property,  often  in  connection  with  horses,  mules,  fodder, 
swine,  etc.,  as  they  are  almost  daily  in  every  Southern 
paper,  —  must  tend,  even  in  the  best-constituted  minds,  to 
produce  a  certain  obtuseness  with  regard  to  the  interests, 
sufferings,  and  affections  of  such  as  do  not  particularly 
belong  to  himself,  which  will  peculiarly  unfit  him  for  esti 
mating  their  condition.  The  author  has  often  been  singu 
larly  struck  with  this  fact,  in  the  letters  of  Southern  friends  ; 
in  which,  upon  one  page,  they  will  make  some  assertion 
regarding  the  condition  of  Southern  negroes,  and  then  go 
on,  and  in  other  connections  state  facts  which  apparently 
contradict  them  all.  We  can  all  be  aware  how  this  famil 
iarity  would  operate  with  ourselves.  Were  we  called  upon 
to  state  how  often  our  neighbors'  cows  were  separated  from 
their  calves,  or  how  often  their  household  furniture  and 
other  effects  are  scattered  and  dispersed  by  executors'  sales, 
we  should  be  inclined  to  say  that  it  was  not  a  misfortune  of 
very  common  occurrence. 


374  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

But  let  us  open  two  South  Carolina  papers,  published 
in  the  very  State  where  this  gentleman  is  residing,  and 
read  the  advertisements  FOB  ONE  WEEK.  The  author  has 
slightly  abridged  them. 

COMMISSIONER'S  SALE  OF  12  LIKELY  NEGROES. 
FAIKFIELD  DISTRICT. 

R.  W.  Murray  and  wife  and' 
others 

v.  }-     In  Equity. 

William  Wright   and  wife 

and  others. 

In  pursuance  of  an  Order  of  the  Court  of  Equity  made  in 
the  above  case  at  July  Term,  1852,  I  will  sell  at  public  outcry, 
to  the  highest  bidder,  before  the  Court  House  in  Winnsboro, 
on  the  first  Monday  in  January  next, 

12   VERY    LIKELY   NEGROES, 

belonging  to  the  estate  of  Micajah  Mobley,  deceased,  late  of 
Fairfield  District. 

These  Negroes  consist  chiefly  of  young  boys  and  girls,  and 
are  said  to  be  very  likely. 
Terms  of  Sale,  etc. 

W.  R.  ROBERTSON, 

C.  E.  F.  D. 

Commissioner's  Office,          ) 
Winnsboro,  Nov.  30,  1852.  j 

Dec.  2  42  x4. 

[Eighteen  similar  advertisements  follow.] 

Now,  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  a  person  who  has  been 
accustomed  to  see  such  advertisements  from  boyhood,  and 
to  pass  them  over  with  as  much  indifference  as  we  pass 
over  advertisements  of  sofas  and  chairs  for  sale,  could 
possibly  receive  the  shock  from  them  which  one  wholly 
unaccustomed  to  such  a  mode  of  considering  and  disposing 
of  human  beings  would  receive.  They  make  no  impression 
upon  him.  His  own  family  servants,  and  those  of  his 
friends,  are  not  in  the  market,  and  he  does  not  realize  that 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM*S   CABIN  375 

0ny  are.  Under  the  advertisements,  a  hundred  such  scenes 
as  those  described  in  "  Uncle  Tom"  may  have  been  acting 
in  his  very  vicinity. 

These  papers  of  South  Carolina  are  not  exceptional  ones  ; 
they  may  be  matched  by  hundreds  of  papers  from  any  other 
State. 

Let  the  reader  now  stop  one  minute,  and  look  over  again 
these  two  weeks'  advertisements.  This  is  not  novel- 
writing  —  this  is  fact.  See  these  human  beings  tumbled 
promiscuously  out  before  the  public  with  horses,  mules, 
second-hand  buggies,  cotton-seed,  bedsteads,  etc.,  etc.  ;  and 
Christian  ladies,  in  the  same  newspaper,  saying  that  they 
prayerfully  study  God's  word,  and  believe  their  institutions 
have  his  sanction  !  Does  he  suppose  that  here,  in  these 
two  weeks,  there  have  been  no  scenes  of  suffering  ?  Ima 
gine  the  distress  of  these  families  —  the  nights  of  anxiety 
of  these  mothers  and  children,  wives  and  husbands,  when 
these  sales  are  about  to  take  place  !  Imagine  the  scenes  of 
the  sales !  A  young  lady,  a  friend  of  the  writer,  who 
spent  a  winter  in  Carolina,  described  to  her  the  sale  of  a 
woman  and  her  children.  When  the  little  girl,  seven 
years  of  age,  was  put  on  the  block,  she  fell  into  spasms 
Avith  fear  and  excitement.  She  was  taken  off  —  recovered 
and  put  back  —  the  spasms  came  back  —  three  times  the 
experiment  was  tried,  and  at  last  the  sale  of  the  child  was 
deferred  ! 

But  let  us  still  further  reason  upon  the  testimony  of 
advertisements.  What  is  to  be  understood  by  the  fol 
lowing,  of  the  "  Memphis  Eagle  and  Inquirer,"  Saturday, 
November  13,  1852  ?  Under  the  editorial  motto,  "  Liberty 
and  Union,  now  and  forever,"  come  the  following  illustra 
tions  :  — 


376  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 


NO.   I. 
NEGROES. 


I  have  just  received  from  the  East  75  assorted  A  No.  1 
negroes.     Call  soon,  if  you  want  to  get  the  first  choice. 

BENJ.  LITTLE. 


NO.   II. 
CASH    FOR    NEGROES. 

I  will  pay  as  high  cash  prices  for  a  few  likely  young 
negroes  as  any  trader  in  this  city.     Also,  will  receive  and 
sell  on  commission  at  Byrd  Hill's,  old  stand,  on  Adams- 
street,  Memphis.  BENJ.  LITTLE. 

NO.   III. 
500   NEGROES   WANTED. 

We  will  pay  the  highest  cash  price  for  all  good 
negroes  offered.  We  invite  all  those  having  ne 
groes  for  sale  to  call  on  us  at  our  Mart,  opposite 
the  lower  steamboat  landing.  We  will  also  have  a  large  lot 
of  Virginia  negroes  for  sale  in  the  Fall.  We  have  as  safe  a  jail 
as  any  in  the  country,  where  we  can  keep  negroes  safe  for  those 
that  wish  them  kept.  BOLTON,  DICKINS  &  Co. 

Under  the  head  of  advertisement  No.  1,  let  us  humbly 
inquire  what  "  assorted  A  No.  1  Negroes  "  means.  Is  it 
likely  that  it  means  negroes  sold  in  families  ?  What  is 
meant  by  the  invitation,  "  Call  soon  if  you  want  to  get  the 
first  choice  "  ? 

So  much  for  Advertisement  No.  1.  Let  us  now  pro 
pound  a  few  questions  to  the  initiated  on  No.  2.  What 
does  Mr.  Benjamin  Little  mean  by  saying  that  he  "  will 
pay  as  liigli  a,  cash  price,  for  a  few  likely  young  negroes  as 
any  trader  in  the  city  "  ?  Do  families  commonly  consist 
exclusively  of  "  likely  young  negroes"  ? 

On  the  third  advertisement  we  are  also  desirous  of  some 
information.  Messrs.  BOLTON,  DICKTNS  &  Co.  state  that 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  377 

they  expect  to  receive  a  large  lot  of  Virginia  negroes  in 
the  fall. 

Unfortunate  Messrs.  Bolton,  Dickins  &  Co.  !  Do  you 
suppose  that  Virginia  families  will  sell  their  negroes  ? 
Have  you  read  Mr.  J.  Thornton  Randolph's  last  novel,  and 
have  you  not  learned  that  old  Virginia  families  never  sell 
to  traders  ?  and,  more  than  that,  that  they  always  club 
together  and  buy  up  the  negroes  that  are  for  sale  in  their 
neighborhood,  and  the  traders  when  they  appear  on  the 
ground  are  hustled  off  with  very  little  ceremony  ?  One 
would  really  think  that  you  had  got  your  impressions  on 
the  subject  from  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  For  we  are  told 
that  all  who  derive  their  views  of  slavery  from  this  book 
"regard  the  families  of  slaves  as  utterly  unsettled  and 
vagrant."  1 

But,  before  we  recover  from  our  astonishment  on  reading 
this,  we  take  up  the  "Natchez  (Mississippi)  Courier"  of 
November  20,  1852,  and  there  read :  — 

NEGROES. 

The  undersigned  would  respectfully  state  to  the  public 
that  he  has  leased  the  stand  in  the  Forks  of  the  Road, 
near  Natchez,  for  a  term  of  years,  and  that  he  intends 
to  keep  a  large  lot  of  NEGROES  on  hand  during  the  year. 
He  will  sell  as  low  or  lower  than  any  other  trader  at  this  place 
or  in  New  Orleans. 

He  has  just  arrived  from  Virginia  with  a  very  likely  lot  of 
Field  Men  and  Women;  also,  House  Servants,  three  Cooks, 
and  a  Carpenter.  Call  and  see. 

A  fine  Buggy  Horse,  a  Saddle  Horse  and  a  Carryall,  on  hand, 
and  for  sale.  THOS.  G.  JAMES. 

Natchez,  Sept.  28,  1852. 

Where  in  the  world  did  this  lucky  Mr.  THOS.  G.  JAMES 
get  this  likely  Virginia  "  assortment  "  ?  Probably  in  some 
county  which  Mr.  Thornton  Randolph  never  visited.  And 

1  Article  in  Eraser's  Magazine  for  October,  by  a  South  Carolinian. 


378  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

had  no  families  been  separated  to  form  the  assortment  ? 
We  hear  of  a  lot  of  field  men  and  women.  Where  are  their 
children  ?  We  hear  of  a  lot  of  house-servants,  —  of  "  three 
cooks/7  and  "  one  carpenter/'  as  well  as  a  "  fine  buggy 
horse.'7  Had  these  unfortunate  cooks  and  carpenters  no 
relations  ?  Did  no  sad  natural  tears  stream  down  their 
dark  cheeks,  when  they  were  being  "  assorted "  for  the 
Natchez  market  ?  Does  no  mournful  heart  among  them 
yearn  to  the  song  of 

"  Oh,  carry  me  back  to  old  Virginny  "  ? 
Still  f urther,  we  see  in  the  same  paper  the  following :  — 

SLAVES  !    SLAVES  !    SLAVES  ! 

FRESH  ARRIVALS  WEEKLY.  —  Having  established  our 
selves  at  the  Forks  of  the  Road,  near  Natchez,  for  a  term 
of  years,  we  have  now  on  hand,  and  intend  to  keep 
throughout  the  entire  year,  a  large  and  well-selected  stock  of 
Negroes,  consisting  of  field-hands,  house-servants,  mechanics, 
cooks,  seamstresses,  washers,  ironers,  etc.,  which  we  can  and 
will  sell  as  low  or  lower  than  any  other  house  here  or  in  New 
Orleans. 

Persons  wishing  to  purchase  would  do  well  to  call  on  us 
before  making  purchases  elsewhere,  as  our  regular  arrivals 
will  keep  us  supplied  with  a  good  and  general  assortment. 
Our  terms  are  liberal.  Give  us  a  call. 

GRIFFIN  &  PULLAM. 
Natchez,  Oct.  15,  1852.-6m. 
"Free  Trader"  and  "Concordia  Intelligencer"  copy  as  above. 

Indeed !  Messrs.  Griffin  and  Pullam,  it  seems,  are 
equally  fortunate !  They  are  having  fresh  supplies  weekly, 
and  are  going  to  keep  a  large,  well-selected  stock  constantly 
on  hand,  to  wit,  "  field-hands,  house-servants,  mechanics, 
cooks,  seamstresses,  washers,  ironers,  etc." 

Let  us  respectfully  inquire  what  is  the  process  by  which 
a  trader  acquires  a  well-selected  stock.  He  goes  to  Virginia 
to  select.  He  has  had  orders,  say,  for  one  dozen  cooks,  for 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  379 

half  a  dozen  carpenters,  for  so  many  house-servants,  etc.,  etc. 
Each  one  of  these  individuals  has  his  own  ties  ;  besides 
being  cooks,  carpenters,  and  house-servants,  they  are  also 
fathers,  mothers,  husbands,  wives ;  but  what  of  that  ? 
They  must  be  selected  —  it  is  an  assortment  that  is  wanted. 
The  gentleman  who  has  ordered  a  cook  does  not,  of  course, 
want  her  five  children  ;  and  the  planter  who  has  ordered  a 
carpenter  does  not  want  the  cook,  his  wife.  A  carpenter  is 
an  expensive  article,  at  any  rate,  as  they  cost  from  a  thou 
sand  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars  ;  and  a  man  who  has  to 
pay  out  this  sum  for  him  cannot  always  afford  himself  the 
luxury  of  indulging  his  humanity  ;  and  as  to  the  children, 
they  must  be  left  in  the  slave-raising  State.  For,  when  the 
ready  raised  article  is  imported  weekly  into  Natchez  or  New 
Orleans,  is  it  likely  that  the  inhabitants  will  encumber 
themselves  with  the  labor  of  raising  children  ?  No,  there 
must  be  division  of  labor  in  all  well-ordered  business.  The 
northern  slave  States  raise  the  article,  and  the  southern 
ones  consume  it. 

The  extracts  have  been  taken  from  the  papers  of  the 
more  southern  States.  If,  now,  the  reader  has  any  curiosity 
to  explore  the  selecting  process  in  the  northern  States,  the 
daily  prints  will  further  enlighten  him.  In  the  "  Daily 
Virginian"  of  November  19,  1852,  Mr.  J.  B.  McLendon 
thus  announces  to  the  Old  Dominion  that  he  has  settled 
himself  down  to  attend  to  the  selecting  process :  — 

NEGROES   WANTED. 

The  subscriber,  having  located  in  Lynchburg,  is  giving  the 
highest  cash  prices  for  negroes  between  the  ages  of  10  and  30 
years.  Those  having  negroes  for  sale  may  find  it  to  their  inter 
est  to  call  on  him  at  the  Washington  Hotel,  Lynchburg,  or 
address  him  by  letter. 

All  communications  will  receive  prompt  attention. 

J.  B.  McLENDON. 
nov.  5-dly. 


380  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN 

Mr.  McLendon  distinctly  announces  that  he  is  not  going 
to  take  any  children  under  ten  years  of  age,  nor  any  grown 
people  over  thirty.  Likely  young  negroes  are  what  he  is 
after :  —  families,  of  course,  never  separated  ! 

Again,  in  the  same  paper,  Mr.  Seth  Woodroof  is  desirous 
of  keeping  up  the  recollection  in  the  community  that  he 
also  is  in  the  market,  as  it  would  appear  he  has  been,  some 
time  past.  He,  likewise,  wants  negroes  between  ten  and 
thirty  years  of  age  ;  but  his  views  turn  rather  on  mechan 
ics,  blacksmiths,  and  carpenters,  —  witness  his  hand  :  — 

NEGROES    WANTED. 

The  subscriber  continues  in  market  for  Negroes,  of  both 
sexes,  between  the  ages  of  10  and  30  years,  including  Mechanics, 
such  as  Blacksmiths,  Carpenters,  and  will  pay  the  highest  mar 
ket  prices  in  cash.  His  office  is  a  newly  erected  brick  building 
on  1st  or  Lynch  street,  immediately  in  rear  of  the  Farmers' 
Bank,  where  he  is  prepared  (having  erected  buildings  with  that 
view)  to  board  negroes  sent  to  Lynchburg  for  sale  or  other 
wise  on  as  moderate  terms,  and  keep  them  as  secure,  as  if  they 
were  placed  in  the  jail  of  the  Corporation. 

SETH  WOODROOF. 
aug.  26. 

There  is  no  manner  of  doubt  that  this  Mr.  Seth  Wood- 
roof  is  a  gentleman  of  humanity,  and  wishes  to  avoid  the 
separation  of  families  as  much  as  possible.  Doubtless  he 
ardently  wishes  that  all  his  blacksmiths  and  carpenters 
would  be  considerate,  and  never  have  any  children  under 
ten  years  of  age  ;  but,  if  the  thoughtless  dogs  have  got 
them,  what  's  a  humane  man  to  do  ?  He  has  to  fill  out 
Mr.  This,  That,  and  the  Other's  order,  —  that 's  a  clear 
case  ;  and  therefore  John  and  Sam  must  take  their  last 
look  at  their  babies,  as  Uncle  Tom  did  of  his  when  he 
stood  by  the  rough  trundle-bed  and  dropped  into  it  great, 
useless  tears. 

Nay,  my  friends,  don't  curse  poor  Mr.  Seth  Woodroof, 


A   KEY   TO    UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  381 

because  he  does  the  horrible,  loathsome  work  of  tearing  up 
the  living  human  heart,  to  make  twine  and  shoestrings  for 
you  !  It 's  disagreeable  business  enough,  he  will  tell  you, 
sometimes ;  and,  if  you  must  have  him  to  do  it  for  you, 
treat  him  civilly,  and  don't  pretend  that  you  are  any  better 
than  he. 

But  the  good  trade  is  not  confined  to  the  Old  Dominion, 
by  any  means.  See  the  following  extract  from  a  Tennes 
see  paper,  the  "Nashville  Gazette,"  November  23,  1852, 
where  Mr.  A.  A.  McLean,  general  agent  in  this  kind  of 
business,  thus  makes  known  his  wants  and  intentions :  — 

WANTED. 

I  want  to  purchase  immediately  25  likely  NEGROES,— 
male  and  female,  —  between  the  ages  of  15  and  25  years;  for 
which  I  will  pay  the  highest  price  in  cash. 

A.  A.  McLEAN,  General  Agent, 

Cherry  Street. 
nov  9 

Mr.  McLean,  it  seems,  only  wants  those  between  the 
ages  of  fifteen  and  twenty-five.  This  advertisement  is 
twice  repeated  in  the  same  paper,  from  which  fact  we  may 
conjecture  that  the  gentleman  is  very  much  in  earnest  in 
his  wants,  and  entertains  rather  confident  expectations  that 
somebody  will  be  willing  to  sell.  Further,  the  same  gen 
tleman  states  another  want. 

WANTED. 

I  want  to  purchase,  immediately,  a  Negro  man,  Carpenter, 
and  will  give  a  good  price. 

A.  A.  McLEAN,  Geril  Agent. 
sept  29^ 

Mr.  McLean  does  not  advertise  for  his  wife  and  children, 
or  where  this  same  carpenter  is  to  be  sent,  —  whether  to 
the  New  Orleans  market,  or  up  the  Eed  River,  or  off  to 
some  far  bayou  of  the  Mississippi,  never  to  look  upon  wife 
or  child  again. 


382  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

See,  also,  the  following  advertisement  of  the  good  State 
of  Alabama,  which  shows  how  the  trade  is  thriving  there. 
Mr.  S.  K  Brown,  in  the  "  Advertiser  and  Gazette,"  Mont 
gomery,  Alabama,  holds  forth  as  follows  :  — 

NEGROES    FOR    SALE. 

S.  N".  BROWN  takes  this  method  of  informing  his  old  patrons, 
and  others  waiting  to  purchase  Slaves,  that  he  has  now  on 
hand,  of  his  own  selection  and  purchasing,  a  lot  of  likely 
young  Negroes,  consisting  of  Men,  Boys,  and  Women,  Field 
Hands,  and  superior  House  Servants,  which  he  offers  and  will 
sell  as  low  as  the  times  will  warrant.  Office  on  Market-street, 
above  the  Montgomery  Hall,  at  Lindsay's  Old  Stand,  where  he 
intends  to  keep  slaves  for  sale  on  his  own  account,  and  not  on 
commission,  —  therefore  thinks  he  can  give  satisfaction  to  those 
who  patronize  him. 

Montgomery,  Ala.,  Sept.  13,  1852.  twtf  (J) 

Where  were  these  boys  and  girls  of  Mr.  Brown  selected, 
let  us  ask.  How  did  their  fathers  and  mothers  feel  when 
they  were  "  selected  "  ?  Ernmeline  was  taken  out  of  one 
family,  and  George  out  of  another.  The  judicious  trader 
has  traveled  through  wide  regions  of  country,  leaving  in 
his  track  wailing  and  anguish.  A  little  incident,  which 
has  recently  been  the  rounds  of  the  papers,  may  perhaps 
illustrate  some  of  the  scenes  he  has  occasioned  :  — 

INCIDENT    OF    SLAVERY. 

A  negro  woman  belonging  to  Geo.  M.  Garrison,  of  Polk  Co., 
killed  four  of  her  children,  by  cutting  their  throats  while  they 
were  asleep,  on  Thursday  night,  the  2d  inst.,  and  then  put  an 
end  to  her  own  existence  by  cutting  her  throat.  Her  master 
knows  of  no  cause  for  the  horrid  act,  unless  it  be  that  she  heard 
him  speak  of  selling  her  and  two  of  her  children,  and  keeping 
the  others. 

The  uncertainty  of  the  master  in  this  case  is  edifying. 
He  knows  that  negroes  cannot  be  expected  to  have  the 
feelings  of  cultivated  people ;  and  yet,  here  is  a  case 
where  the  creature  really  acts  unaccountably,  and  he  can't 


A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  383 

think  of  any  cause  except  that  he  was  going  to  sell  her  from 
her  children. 

But  let  us  search  the  Southern  papers,  and  see  if  we  can 
not  find  some  evidence  of  that  humanity  which  avoids  the 
separation  of  families,  as  far  as  possible.  In  the  "  Argus," 
published  at  Weston,  Missouri,  November  5,  1852,  see  the 
following :  — 

A   NEGRO    FOR    SALE. 

I  wish  to  sell  a  black  girl  about  24  years  old,  a  good  cook 
and  washer,  handy  with  a  needle,  can  spin  and  weave.  I  wish 
to  sell  her  in  the  neighborhood  of  Camden  Point ;  if  not  sold 
there  in  a  short  time,  I  will  hunt  the  best  market ;  or  I  will 
trade  her  for  two  small  ones,  a  boy  and  girl. 

M.    DOYAL. 

Considerate  Mr.  Doyal !  He  is  opposed  to  the  separation 
of  families,  and,  therefore,  wishes  to  sell  this  woman  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Camden  Point,  where  her  family  ties  are, 
—  perhaps  her  husband  and  children,  her  brothers  or  sisters. 
He  will  not  separate  her  from  her  family  if  it  is  possible  to 
avoid  it ;  that  is  to  say,  if  he  can  get  as  much  for  her  with 
out  ;  but,  if  he  can't,  he  will  "  hunt  the  best  market" 
What  more  would  you  have  of  Mr.  Doyal  ? 

How  speeds  the  blessed  trade  in  the  State  of  Maryland  ? 
Let  us  take  the  "  Baltimore  Sun "  of  November  23, 
1852. 

Mr.  J.  S.  Donovan  thus  advertises  the  Christian  public 
of  the  accommodations  of  his  jail :  — 

CASH    FOR    NEGROES. 

The  undersigned  continues,  at  his  old  stand,  No.  13  CAMDEN 
ST.,  to  pay  the  highest  price  for  NEGROES.  Persons  bringing 
Negroes  by  railroad  or  steamboat  will  find  it  very  convenient 
to  secure  their  Negroes,  as  my  Jail  is  adjoining  the  Railroad 
Depot  and  near  the  Steamboat  Landings.  Negroes  received  for 
safe  keeping.  J.  S.  DONOVAN. 

Messrs.  B.  M.  &  W.  L.  Campbell,  in  the  respectable  old 
stand  of  Slatter,  advertise  as  follows  :  — 


384  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN 


SLAVES    WANTED. 

We  are  at  all  times  purchasing  SLAVES,  paying  the  highest 
CASH  prices.  Persons  wishing  to  sell  will  please  call  at  242 
PRATT  ST.  (Slatter's  old  stand).  Communications  attended  to. 

B.  M.  &  W.  L.  CAMPBELL. 

In  another  column,  however,  Mr.  John  Denning  has  his 
season  advertisement,  in  terms  which  border  on  the  sub 
lime  :  — 

5000  NEGROES   WANTED. 

I  will  pay  the  highest  prices,  in  cash,  for  5000  NEGROES, 
with  good  titles,  slaves  for  life  or  for  a  term  of  years,  in  large 
or  small  families,  or  single  negroes.  I  will  also  purchase  Ne 
groes  restricted  to  remain  in  the  State,  that  sustain  good  char 
acters.  Families  never  separated.  Persons  having  Slaves  for 
sale  will  please  call  and  see  me,  as  I. am  always  in  the  market 
with  the  cash.  Communications  promptly  attended  to,  and 
liberal  commissions  paid,  by  JOHN  N.  DENNING,  No.  18  S. 
Frederick  street,  between  Baltimore  and  Second  streets,  Balti 
more,  Maryland.  Trees  in  front  of  the  house. 

Mr.  John  Denning,  also,  is  a  man  of  humanity.  He 
never  separates  families.  Don't  you  see  it  in  his  advertise 
ment  ?  If  a  man  offers  him  a  wife  without  her  husband, 
Mr.  John  Denning  won't  buy  her.  Oh,  no  !  His  five  thou 
sand  are  all  unbroken  families ;  he  never  takes  any  other  ; 
and  he  transports  them  whole  and  entire.  This  is  a  com 
fort  to  reflect  upon,  certainly. 

See,  also,  the  "  Democrat,"  published  in  Cambridge, 
Maryland,  December  8,  1852.  A  gentleman  gives  this  pic 
torial  representation  of  himself,  with  the  proclamation  to 
the  slave-holders  of  Dorchester  and  adjacent  counties  that 
he  is  again  in  the  market :  — 

NEGROES    WANTED. 

I  wish  to  inform  the  slave-holders  of  Dorchester  and  the 
adjacent  counties  that  I  am  again  in  the  Market.    Persons 
having  negroes  that  are  slaves  for  life  to  dispose  of  will 
find  it  to  their  interest  to  see  me  before  they  sell,  as  I  am  deter- 


A   KEY   TO    UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  385 

mined  to  pay  the  highest  prices  in  cash  that  the  Southern 
market  will  justify.  I  can  be  found  at  A.  Hall's  Hotel  in 
Easton,  where  I  will  remain  until  the  first  day  of  July  next. 
Communications  addressed  to  me  at  Easton,  or  information 
given  to  Wm.  Bell  in  Cambridge,  will  meet  with  prompt  atten 
tion.  WM.  HARKER. 

Mr.  Harker  is  very  accommodating.  He  keeps  himself 
informed  as  to  the  state  of  the  Southern  market,  and  will 
give  the  very  highest  price  that  it  will  justify.  Moreover, 
he  will  be  on  hand  till  July,  and  will  answer  any  letters 
from  the  adjoining  country  on  the  subject.  On  one  point  he 
ought  to  be  spoken  to.  He  has  not  advertised  that  he  does 
not  separate  families.  It  is  a  mere  matter  of  taste,  to  be 
sure ;  but  then  some  well-disposed  people  like  to  see  it  on  a 
trader's  card,  thinking  it  has  a  more  creditable  appearance ; 
and,  probably,  Mr.  Harker,  if  he  reflects  a  little,  will  put 
it  in  next  time.  It  takes  up  very  little  room,  and  makes  a 
good  appearance. 

We  are  occasionally  reminded,  by  the  advertisements  for 
runaways,  to  how  small  an  extent  it  is  found  possible  to 
avoid  the  separation  of  families  ;  as  in  the  "  Richmond 
Whig  »  of  November  5,  1852 :  — 

$10    REWARD. 

We  are  requested  by  Henry  P.  Davis  to  offer  a  reward  of  $10 
for  the  apprehension  of  a  negro  man  named  HENRY,  who  ran 
away  from  the  said  Davis'  farm  near  Petersburg,  on  Thursday, 
the  27th  October.  Said  slave  came  from  near  Lynchburg.  Va., 
purchased  of  -  —  Cock,  and  has  a  wife  in  Halifax  county,  Va. 
He  has  recently  been  employed  on  the  South  Side  Railroad. 
He  may  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  wife. 

PULLIAM  &  DAVIS,  Aucts.,  Richmond. 

It  seems  to  strike  the  advertiser  as  possible  that  Henry 
may  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  wife.  We  should  not 
at  all  wonder  if  he  were. 

The  reader,  by  this  time,  is  in  possession  of  some  of  those 
statistics  of  which  the  South  Carolinian  speaks,  when  he 
says,  — 


386 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 


"  We  feel  confident,  if  statistics  could  be  had,  to  throw  light 
upon  the  subject,  we  should  find  that  there  is  less  separation  of 
families  among  the  negroes  than  occurs  with  almost  any  other 
class  of  persons." 

In  order  to  give  some  little  further  idea  of  the  extent  to 
which  this  kind  of  property  is  continually  changing  hands, 
see  the  following  calculation,  which  has  been  made  from 
sixty -four  Southern  newspapers,  taken  very  much  at  ran 
dom.  The  papers  were  all  published  in  the  last  two  weeks 
of  the  month  of  November,  1852. 

The  negroes  are  advertised  sometimes  by  name,  some 
times  in  definite  numbers,  and  sometimes  in  "  lots,'7  "  as 
sortments,"  and  other  indefinite  terms.  We  present  the 
result  of  this  estimate,  far  as  it  must  fall  from  a  fair  rep 
resentation  of  the  facts,  in  a  tabular  form. 

Here  is  recorded,  in  only  eleven  papers,  the  sale  of  eight 
hundred  and  forty-nine  slaves  in  two  weeks  in  Virginia ; 
the  State  where  Dr.  J.  Thornton  Randolph  describes  such 
an  event  as  a  separation  of  families  being  a  thing  that  "  we 
read  of  in  novels  sometimes." 


States  where  published. 

No.  of  Papers 
consulted. 

No.  of  Negroes 
advertised. 

o5 

2 

*o 

i 

No.  of  Runaways 
described. 

11 

849 

7 

15 

5 

238 

1 

7 

8 

385 

4 

17 

12 

852 

2 

7 

6 

98 

2 

o 

10 

549 

5 

5 

8 

669 

5 

6 

4 

460 

4 

35 

64 

4100 

30 

92 

In  South  Carolina,  where  the  writer  in  "  Eraser's  Maga- 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  387 

zine  "  dates  from,  we  have  during  these  same  two  weeks  a 
sale  of  eight  hundred  and  fifty-two  recorded  by  one  dozen 
papers.  Verily,  we  must  apply  to  the  newspapers  of  his 
state  the  same  language  which  he  applies  to  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin :  "  "  Were  our  views  of  the  system  of  slavery  to  be 
derived  from  these  papers,  we  should  regard  the  families  of 
slaves  as  utterly  unsettled  and  vagrant." 

The  total,  in  sixty-four  papers,  in  different  States,  for 
only  two  weeks,  is  four  thousand  one  hundred,  besides 
ninety-two  lots,  as  they  are  called. 

And  now,  who  is  he  who  compares  the  hopeless,  return- 
less  separation  of  the  negro  from  his  family,  to  the  volun 
tary  separation  of  the  freeman,  whom  necessary  business 
interest  takes  for  a  while  from  the  bosom  of  his  family  ? 
Is  not  the  lot  of  the  slave  bitter  enough,  without  this  last 
of  mockeries  and  worst  of  insults  ?  Well  may  they  say, 
in  their  anguish,  "  Our  soul  is  exceedingly  filled  with  the 
scorning  of  them  that  are  at  ease,  and  with  the  contempt 
of  the  proud  !  " 

From  the  poor  negro,  exposed  to  bitterest  separation,  the 
law  jealously  takes  away  the  power  of  writing.  For  him 
the  gulf  of  separation  yawns  black  and  hopeless,  with  no 
redeeming  signal.  Ignorant  of  geography,  he  knows  not 
whither  he  is  going,  or  where  he  is,  or  how  to  direct  a 
letter.  To  all  intents  and  purposes,  it  is  a  separation  hope 
less  as  that  of  death,  and  as  final. 

CHAPTER    IV 

THE  SLAVE-TRADE 

What  is  it  that  constitutes  the  vital  force  of  the  institu 
tion  of  slavery  in  this  country  ?  Slavery,  being  an  un 
natural  and  unhealthful  condition  of  society,  being  a  most 
wasteful  and  impoverishing  mode  of  cultivating  the  soil, 


388  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

would  speedily  run  itself  out  in  a  community,  and  become 
so  unprofitable  as  to  fall  into  disuse,  were  it  not  kept  alive 
by  some  unnatural  process. 

What  has  that  process  been  in  America  ?  Why  has  that 
healing  course  of  nature  which  cured  this  awful  wound  in  all 
the  Northern  States  stopped  short  on  Mason  and  Dixon's 
line  ?  In  Delaware,  Maryland,  Virginia,  and  Kentucky, 
slave  labor  long  ago  impoverished  the  soil  almost  beyond 
recovery,  and  became  entirely  unprofitable.  In  all  these 
States  it  is  well  known  that  the  question  of  emancipation 
has  been  urgently  presented.  It  has  been  discussed  in 
legislatures,  and  Southern  men  have  poured  forth  on  the 
institution  of  slavery  such  anathemas  as  only  Southern  men 
can  pour  forth.  All  that  has  ever  been  said  of  it  at  the 
North  has  been  said  in  fourfold  thunders  in  these  South 
ern  discussions.  The  State  of  Kentucky  once  came  within 
one  vote,  in  her  legislature,  of  taking  measures  for  gradual 
emancipation.  The  State  of  Virginia  has  come  almost 
equally  near,  and  Maryland  has  long  been  waiting  at  the 
door.  There  was  a  time  when  no  one  doubted  that  all 
these  States  would  soon  be  free  States ;  and  what  is  now 
the  reason  that  they  are  not  ?  Why  are  these  discussions 
now  silenced,  and  why  does  this  noble  determination  now 
retrograde  ?  The  answer  is  in  a  word.  It  is  the  exten 
sion  of  slave  territory,  the  opening  of  a  great  Southern 
slave-market,  and  the  organization  of  a  great  internal  slave- 
trade,  that  has  arrested  the  progress  of  emancipation. 

While  these  States  were  beginning  to  look  upon  the 
slave  as  one  who  might  possibly  yet  become  a  man,  while 
they  meditated  giving  to  him  and  his  wife  and  children  the 
inestimable  blessings  of  liberty,  this  great  Southern  slave- 
mart  was  opened.  It  began  by  the  addition  of  Missouri  as 
slave  territory,  and  the  votes  of  two  Northern  men  were 
those  which  decided  this  great  question.  Then,  by  the 
assent  and  concurrence  of  Northern  men,  came  in  all  the 


A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  389 

immense  acquisition  of  slave  territory  which  now  opens  so 
boundless  a  market  to  tempt  the  avarice  and  cupidity  of 
the  northern  slave-raising  States. 

This  acquisition  of  territory  has  deferred  perhaps  for  in 
definite  ages  the  emancipation  of  a  race.  It  has  condemned 
to  sorrow  and  heart-breaking  separation,  to  groans  and 
wailings,  hundreds  of  thousands  of  slave  families ;  it  has 
built,  through  all  the  Southern  States,  slave-warehouses, 
with  all  their  ghastly  furnishings  of  gags,  and  thumb 
screws,  and  cowhides ;  it  has  organized  unnumbered  slave- 
coffles,  clanking  their  chains  and  filing  in  mournful  march 
through  this  land  of  liberty. 

This  accession  of  slave  territory  hardened  the  heart  of 
the  master.  It  changed  what  was  before,  in  comparison, 
a  kindly  relation,  into  the  most  horrible  and  inhuman  of 
trades. 

But  we  will  not  deal  in  assertions  merely.  We  have 
stated  the  thing  to  be  proved  ;  let  us  show  the  facts  which 
prove  it. 

The  existence  of  this  fearful  traffic  is  known  to  many, 
—  the  particulars  and  dreadful  extent  of  it  realized  but  by 
few. 

Let  us  enter  a  little  more  particularly  on  them.  The 
slave-exporting  States  are  Maryland,  Virginia,  Kentucky, 
North  Carolina,  Tennessee,  and  Missouri.  These  are  slave- 
raising  States,  and  the  others  are  slave-consuming  States. 
We  have  shown,  in  the  preceding  chapters,  the  kind  of  ad 
vertisements  which  are  usual  in  those  States  ;  but,  as  we 
wish  to  produce  on  the  minds  of  our  readers  something  of 
the  impression  which  has  been  produced  on  our  own  mind  by 
their  multiplicity  and  abundance,  we  shall  add  a  few  more 
here.  For  the  State  of  Virginia,  see  all  the  following  :  — 

"  Kanawha  Bepublican,"  October  20,  1852,  Charleston, 
Va.  At  the  head  —  Liberty,  with  a  banner,  "  Drapeau 
sans  Tceche." 


390        A  KEY  TO  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN 
CASH  FOR  NEGROES. 

The  subscriber  wishes  to  purchase  a  few  young  NEGROES, 
from  12  to  25  years  of  age,  for  which  the  highest  market  price 
will  be  paid  in  cash.  A  few  lines  addressed  to  him  through 
the  Post  Office,  Kanawha  C.  PI.,  or  a  personal  application,  will 
be  promptly  attended  to.  JAS.  L.  FICKLIN. 

Oct.  20,  '53.  — 3t 

"Alexandria  Gazette,"  October  28th  :  — 

CASH  FOR  NEGROES. 

I  wish  to  purchase  immediately,  for  the  South,  any  number 
of  NEGROES, /rom  10  to  30  years  of  age,  for  which  I  will  pay 
the  very  highest  cash  price.  All  communications  promptly 
attended  to.  JOSEPH  BRUIN. 

West  End,  Alexandria,  Va.,  Oct.  26.  —  tf 

"  Lynchburg  Virginian,"  November  18th  :  — 

NEGROES    WANTED. 

The  subscriber,  having  located  in  Lynchburg,  is  giving  the 
highest  cash  prices  for  negroes,  between  the  ages  of  10  and 
30  years.  Those  having  negroes  for  sale  may  find  it  to  their 
interest  to  call  on  him  at  the  Washington  Hotel,  Lynchburg, 
or  address  him  by  letter. 

All  communications  will  receive  prompt  attention. 

J.  B.  McLENDON. 

Nov.  5.  —  dly 

"  Rockingham  Register,"  November  13th  :  — 

CASH   FOR    NEGROES. 

I  wish  to  purchase  a  number  of  NEGROES  of  both  sexes 
and  all  ages,  for  the  Southern  market,  for  which  I  will  pay  the 
highest  cash  prices.  Letters  addressed  to  me  at  Winchester, 
Virginia,  will  be  promptly  attended  to. 

H.  J.  MCDANIEL,  Agent 

for  Wm.  Crow. 
Nov.  24,  ]846.-tf 

[Similar  advertisements  are  given  from  Maryland,  Ten 
nessee,  and  Missouri  papers.] 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  391 

We  ask  you,  Christian  reader,  we  beg  you  to  think,  what 
sort  of  scenes  are  going  on  in  Virginia  under  these  adver 
tisements  ?  You  see  that  they  are  carefully  worded  so  as 
to  take  only  the  young  people  ;  and  they  are  only  a  speci 
men  of  the  standing,  season  advertisements  which  are  among 
the  most  common  things  in  the  Virginia  papers.  A  succeed 
ing  chapter  will  open  to  the  reader  the  interior  of  these 
slave-prisons,  and  show  him  something  of  the  daily  inci 
dents  of  this  kind  of  trade.  Now  let  us  look  at  the  corre 
sponding  advertisements  in  the  Southern  States.  The  coffles 
made  up  in  Virginia  and  other  States  are  thus  announced  in 
the  Southern  market. 

From  the  "  Natchez  (Mississippi)  Free  Trader/'  Novem 
ber  20th  :  — 

NEGROES    FOR    SALE. 

The  undersigned  have  just  arrived,  direct  from  Richmond, 
Va.,  with  a  large  and  likely  lot  of  Negroes,  consisting  of  Field 
Hands,  House  Servants,  Seamstresses,  Cooks,  Washers,  and 
Ironers,  a  first-rate  brick  mason,  and  other  mechanics,  which 
they  now  offer  for  sale  at  the  Forks  of  the  Road,  near  Natchez 
(Miss.),  on  the  most  accommodating  terms. 

They  will  continue  to  receive  fresh  supplies  from  Richmond, 
Va.,  during  the  season,  and  will  be  able  to  furnish  to  any  order 
any  description  of  Negroes  sold  in  Richmond. 

Persons  wishing  to  purchase  would  do  well  to  give  us  a  call 
before  purchasing  elsewhere. 

MATTHEWS,  BRANTON  &  Co, 

nov20-6m 

[Nine  similar  advertisements  follow.] 

The  slave-raising  business  of  the  Northern  States  has 
been  variously  alluded  to  and  recognized,  both  in  the  busi 
ness  statistics  of  the  States,  and  occasionally  in  the  speeches 
of  patriotic  men,  who  have  justly  mourned  over  it  as  a  degra 
dation  to  their  country.  In  1841,  the  British  and  Foreign 
Anti-Slavery  Society  addressed  to  the  executive  committee 
of  the  American  Anti-Slavery  Society  some  inquiries  on  the 
internal  American  slave-trade. 


392  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

A  labored  investigation  was  made  at  that  time,  the  re 
sults  of  which  were  published  in  London ;  and  from  that 
volume  are  made  the  following  extracts  :  — 

"  The  '  Virginia  Times '  (a  weekly  newspaper,  published  at 
Wheeling,  Virginia)  estimates,  in  1836,  the  number  of  slaves  ex 
ported  for  sale  from  that  State  alone,  during  '  the  twelve  months 
preceding,'  at  forty  thousand,  the  aggregate  value  of  whom  is 
computed  at  twenty-four  millions  of  dollars. 

"  Allowing  for  Virginia  one  half  of  the  whole  exportation 
during  the  period  in  question,  and  we  have  the  appalling  sum 
total  of  eighty  thousand  slaves  exported  in  a  single  year  from  the 
breeding  States.  We  cannot  decide  with  certainty  what  propor 
tion  of  the  above  number  was  furnished  by  each  of  the  breeding 
States,  but  Maryland  ranks  next  to  Virginia  in  point  of  num 
bers,  North  Carolina  follows  Maryland,  Kentucky,  North  Caro 
lina,  then  Tennessee  and  Delaware." 

If  we  look  back  to  the  advertisements,  we  shall  see  that 
the  traders  take  only  the  younger  ones,  between  the  ages  of 
ten  and  thirty.  But  this  is  only  one  port,  and  only  one 
mode  of  exporting  ;  for  multitudes  of  them  are  sent  in 
coffles  over  land.  And  yet  Mr.  J.  Thornton  Randolph 
represents  the  negroes  of  Virginia  as  living  in  pastoral 
security,  smoking  their  pipes  under  their  own  vines  and 
fig- trees,  the  venerable  patriarch  of  the  flock  declaring  that 
"  he  nebber  hab  hear  such  a  ting  as  a  nigger  sold  to  Geor 
gia  all  his  life,  unless  dat  nigger  did  someting  very  bad." 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  Dr.  Bailey,  in  the 
"  Era,"  1847,  presents  a  view  of  this  subject  more  credita 
ble  to  some  Virginia  families.  May  the  number  that  refuse 
to  part  with  slaves  except  by  emancipation  increase  ! 

"  The  sale  of  slaves  to  the  South  is  carried  to  a  great  extent. 
The  slave-holders  do  not,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  raise  them  for 
that  special  purpose.  But,  here  is  a  man  with  a  score  of  slaves, 
located  on  an  exhausted  plantation.  It  must  furnish  support 
for  all ;  but,  while  they  increase,  its  capacity  of  supply  decreases. 


A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  393 

The  result  is,  he  must  emancipate  or  sell.  But  he  has  fallen 
into  debt,  and  he  sells  to  relieve  himself  from  debt,  and  also 
from  an  excess  of  mouths.  Or,  he  requires  money  to  educate 
his  children ;  or,  his  negroes  are  sold  under  execution.  From 
these  and  other  causes,  large  numbers  of  slaves  are  continually 
disappearing  from  the  State,  so  that  the  next  census  will  un 
doubtedly  show  a  marked  diminution  of  the  slave  population. 

"  The  season  for  this  trade  is  generally  from  November  to 
April ;  and  some  estimate  that  the  average  number  of  slaves 
passing  by  the  southern  railroad  weekly,  during  that  period  of 
six  months,  is  at  least  two  hundred.  A  slave-trader  told  me 
that  he  had  known  one  hundred  pass  in  a  single  night.  But 
this  is  only  one  route.  Large  numbers  are  sent  off  westwardly, 
and  also  by  sea,  coastwise.  The  Davises,  in  Petersburg,  are  the 
great  slave-dealers.  They  are  Jews,  who  came  to  that  place 
many  years  ago  as  poor  peddlers  ;  and,  I  am  informed,  are  mem 
bers  of  a  family  which  has  its  representatives  in  Philadelphia, 
New  York,  etc. !  These  men  are  always  in  the  market,  giving 
the  highest  price  for  slaves.  During  the  summer  and  fall  they 
buy  them  up  at  low  prices,  trim,  shave,  wrash  them,  fatten  them 
so  that  they  may  look  sleek,  and  sell  them  to  great  profit.  It 
might  not  be  unprofitable  to  inquire  how  much  Northern  capi 
tal,  and  what  firms  in  some  of  the  Northern  cities,  are  connected 
with  this  detestable  business. 

"  There  are  many  planters  here  who  cannot  be  persuaded  to 
sell  their  slaves.  They  have  far  more  than  they  can  find  work 
for,  and  could  at  any  time  obtain  a  high  price  for  them.  The 
temptation  is  strong,  for  they  want  more  money  and  fewer  de 
pendants.  But  they  resist  it,  and  nothing  can  induce  them  to 
part  with  a  single  slave,  though  they  know  that  they  would  be 
greatly  the  gainers  in  a  pecuniary  sense,  were  they  to  sell  one 
half  of  them.  Such  men  are  too  good  to  be  slave-holders. 
Would  that  they  might  see  it  their  duty  to  go  one  step  further, 
and  become  emancipators  !  The  majority  of  this  class  of 
planters  are  religious  men,  and  this  is  the  class  to  which  gener 
ally  are  to  be  referred  the  various  cases  of  emancipation  ly  will, 
of  which  from  time  to  time  we  hear  accounts." 


394  A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 


CHAPTER  V 

SELECT  INCIDENTS  OF  LAWFUL  TRADE,  OR  FACTS  STRANGER 
THAN    FICTION 

The  atrocious  and  sacrilegious  system  of  breeding  human 
heings  for  sale,  and  trading  them  like  cattle  in  the  market, 
fails  to  produce  the  impression  on  the  mind  that  it  ought 
to  produce,  because  it  is  lost  in  generalities. 

It  is  like  the  account  of  a  great  battle,  in  which  we  learn, 
in  round  numbers,  that  ten  thousand  were  killed  and 
wounded,  and  throw  the  paper  by  without  a  thought. 

So,  when  we  read  of  sixty  or  eighty  thousand  human  be 
ings  being  raised  yearly  and  sold  in  the  market,  it  passes 
through  our  mind,  but  leaves  no  definite  trace. 

Sterne  says  that  when  he  would  realize  the  miseries  of 
captivity,  he  had  to  turn  his  mind  from  the  idea  of  hun 
dreds  of  thousands  languishing  in  dungeons,  and  bring  be 
fore  himself  the  picture  of  one  poor,  solitary  captive  pining 
in  his  cell.  In  like  manner,  we  cannot  give  any  idea  of 
the  horribly  cruel  and  demoralizing  effect  of  this  trade,  ex 
cept  by  presenting  facts  in  detail,  each  fact  being  a  specimen 
of  a  class  of  facts. 

The  next  history  is  a  long  one,  and  part  of  it  transpired 
in  a  most  public  manner,  in  the  face  of  our  whole  com 
munity. 

The  history  includes  in  it  the  whole  account  of  that 
memorable  capture  of  the  Pearl,  which  produced  such  a 
sensation  in  Washington  in  the  year  1848.  The  author, 
however,  will  preface  it  with  a  short  history  of  a  slave 
woman  who  had  six  children  embarked  in  that  ill-fated 
enterprise. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  395 


CHAPTER  VI 

Milly  Edmondson  is  an  aged  woman,  now  upwards  of 
seventy.  She  has  received  the  slave's  inheritance  of  entire 
ignorance.  She  cannot  read  a  letter  of  a  book,  nor  write 
her  own  name ;  but  the  writer  must  say  that  she  was  never 
so  impressed  with  any  presentation  of  the  Christian  religion 
as  that  which  was  made  to  her  in  the  language  and  appear 
ance  of  this  woman  during  the  few  interviews  that  she  had 
with  her.  The  circumstances  of  the  interviews  will  be 
detailed  at  length  in  the  course  of  the  story. 

Milly  is  above  the  middle  height,  of  a  large,  full  figure. 
She  dresses  with  the  greatest  attention  to  neatness.  A  plain 
Methodist  cap  shades  her  face,  and  the  plain  white  Metho 
dist  handkerchief  is  folded  across  the  bosom.  A  well-pre 
served  stuff  gown,  and  clean  white  apron,  with  a  white 
pocket-handkerchief  pinned  to  her  side,  completes  the  inven 
tory  of  the  costume  in  which  the  writer  usually  saw  her. 
She  is  a  mulatto,  and  must  once  have  been  a  very  handsome 
one.  Her  eyes  and  smile  are  still  uncommonly  beautiful, 
but  there  are  deep-wrought  lines  of  patient  sorrow  and 
weary  endurance  on  her  face,  which  tell  that  this  lovely 
and  noble-hearted  woman  has  been  all  her  life  a  slave. 

Milly  Edmondson  was  kept  by  her  owners  and  allowed 
to  live  with  her  husband,  with  the  express  understanding 
and  agreement  that  her  service  and  value  was  to  consist  in 
breeding  up  her  own  children  to  be  sold  in  the  slave-market. 
Her  legal  owner  was  a  maiden  lady  of  feeble  capacity,  who 
was  set  aside  by  the  decision  of  court  as  incompetent  to 
manage  her  affairs. 

The  estate  —  that  is  to  say,  Milly  Edmondson  and  her 
children  —  was  placed  in  the  care  of  a  guardian.  It  appears 
that  Milly's  poor,  infirm  mistress  was  fond  of  her,  and  that 
Milly  exercised  over  her  much  of  that  ascendancy  which  a 


396  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

strong  mind  holds  over  a  weak  one.  Milly's  husband,  Paul 
Edmondson,  was  a  free  man.  A  little  of  her  history,  as  she 
related  it  to  the  writer,  will  now  be  given  in  her  own  words : 

"  Her  mistress/7  she  said,  "  was  always  kind  to  her,  '  poor 
thing !  '  but  then  she  had  n't  sperit  ever  to  speak  for  her 
self,  and  her  friends  would  n't  let  her  have  her  own  way. 
It  always  laid  on  my  mind,"  she  said,  "  that  I  was  a  slave. 
When  I  wa'n't  more  than  fourteen  years  old,  Missis  was  do 
ing  some  work  one  day  that  she  thought  she  could  n't  trust 
me  with,  and  she  says  to  me,  '  Milly,  now  you  see  it 's  I 
that  am  the  slave,  and  not  you.'  I  says  to  her,  '  Ah,  Missis, 
I  am  a  poor  slave,  for  all  that.'  I 's  sorry  afterwards  I  said 
it,  for  I  thought  it  seemed  to  hurt  her  feelings. 

"  Well,  after  a  while,  when  I  got  engaged  to  Paul,  I 
loved  Paul  very  much  ;  but  I  thought  it  wa'n't  right  to 
bring  children  into  the  world  to  be  slaves,  and  I  told  our 
folks  that  I  was  never  going  to  marry,  though  I  did  love 
Paul.  But  that  wa'n't  to  be  allowed,"  she  said,  with  a 
mysterious  air. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Well,  they  told  me  I  must  marry,  or  I  should  be  turned 
out  of  the  church  —  so  it  was,"  she  added,  with  a  signifi 
cant  nod.  "  Well,  Paul  and  me,  we  was  married,  and  we 
was  happy  enough,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  that ;  but  when 
our  first  child  was  born  I  says  to  him,  '  There  't  is,  now, 
Paul,  our  troubles  is  begun ;  this  child  is  n't  ours.'  And 
every  child  I  had,  it  grew  worse  and  worse.  '  Oh,  Paul,' 
says  I,  'what  a  thing  it  is  to  have  children  that  is  n't  ours!' 
Paul  he  says  to  me,  (  Milly,  my  dear,  if  they  be  God's  chil 
dren,  it  ain't  so  much  matter  whether  they  be  ours  or  no ; 
they  may  be  heirs  of  the  kingdom,  Milly,  for  all  that.' 
Well,  when  Paul's  mistress  died,  she  set  him  free,  and  he 
got  him  a  little  place  out  about  fourteen  miles  from  Wash 
ington  ;  and  they  let  me  live  out  there  with  him,  and  take 
home  my  tasks ;  for  they  had  that  confidence  in  me  that 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  397 

they  always  know  'd  that  what  I  said  I  'd  do  was  as  good 
done  as  if  they  'd  seen  it  done.  I  had  mostly  sewing ; 
sometimes  a  shirt  to  make  in  a  day,  —  it  was  coarse  like, 
you  know,  —  or  a  pair  of  sheets,  or  some. such  ;  but,  what 
ever  'twas,  I  always  got  it  done.  Then  I  had  all  my 
housework  and  babies  to  take  care  of ;  and  many  's  the 
time,  after  ten  o'clock,  I  've  took  my  children's  clothes  and 
washed  'em  all  out  and  ironed  'em  late  in  the  night,  'cause 
I  could  n't  never  bear  to  see  my  children  dirty,  —  always 
wanted  to  see  'em  sweet  and  clean,  and  I  brought  'em  up 
and  taught  'em  the  very  best  ways  I  was  able.  But  nobody 
knows  what  I  suffered ;  I  never  see  a  white  man  come  on 
to  the  place  that  I  did  n't  think,  {  There,  now,  he  's  coming 
to  look  at  my  children  ; '  and  when  I  saw  any  white  man 
going  by,  I  've  called  in  my  children  and  hid  'em,  for  fear 
he  'd  see  'em  and  want  to  buy  'em.  Oh,  ma'am,  mine 's 
been  a  long  sorrow,  a  long  sorrow  !  I  've  borne  this  heavy 
cross  a  great  many  years." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  the  Lord  has  been  with  you." 

She  answered,  with  very  strong  emphasis,  "  Ma'am,  if 
the  Lord  had  n't  held  me  up,  I  should  n't  have  been  alive 
this  day.  Oh,  sometimes  my  heart 's  been  so  heavy,  it 
seemed  as  if  I  must  die ;  and  then  I  've  been  to  the  throne 
of  grace,  and  when  I  'd  poured  out  all  my  sorrows  there,  I 
came  away  light,  and  felt  that  I  could  live  a  little  longer." 

This  language  is  exactly  her  own.  She  had  often  a  forci 
ble  and  peculiarly  beautiful  manner  of  expressing  herself, 
which  impressed  what  she  said  strongly. 

Paul  and  Milly  Edmondson  were  both  devout  communi 
cants  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  at  Washington, 
and  the  testimony  to  their  blamelessness  of  life  and  the 
consistence  of  their  piety  is  unanimous  from  all  who  know 
them.  In  their  simple  cottage,  made  respectable  by  neat 
ness  and  order,  and  hallowed  by  morning  and  evening 
prayer,  they  trained  up  their  children,  to  the  best  of  their 


398  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

poor  ability,  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  to 
be  sold  in  the  slave-market.  They  thought  themselves  only 
too  happy,  as  one  after  another  arrived  at  the  age  when 
they  were  to  be  sold,  that  they  were  hired  to  families  in 
their  vicinity,  and  not  thrown  into  the  trader's  pen  to  be 
drafted  for  the  dreaded  Southern  market ! 

The  mother,  feeling,  with  a  constant  but  repressed  an 
guish,  the  weary  burden  of  slavery  which  lay  upon  her, 
was  accustomed,  as  she  told  the  writer,  thus  to  warn  her 
daughters :  — 

"  Now,  girls,  don't  you  never  come  to  the  sorrows  that 
I  have.  Don't  you  never  marry  till  you  get  your  liberty. 
Don't  you  marry,  to  be  mothers  to  children  that  ain't  your 
own." 

As  a  result  of  this  education,  some  of  her  older  daugh 
ters,  in  connection  with  the  young  men  to  whom  they  were 
engaged,  raised  the  sum  necessary  to  pay  for  their  freedom 
before  they  were  married.  One  of  these  young  women,  at 
the  time  that  she  paid  for  her  freedom,  was  in  such  feeble 
health  that  the  physician  told  her  that  she  could  not  live 
many  months,  and  advised  her  to  keep  the  money,  and 
apply  it  to  making  herself  as  comfortable  as  she  could. 

She  answered,  "  If  I  had  only  two  hours  to  live,  I  would 
pay  down  that  money  to  die  free." 

If  this  was  setting  an  extravagant  value  on  liberty,  it  is 
not  for  an  American  to  say  so. 

All  the  sons  and  daughters  of  this  family  were  distin 
guished  both  for  their  physical  and  mental  development, 
and  therefore  were  priced  exceedingly  high  in  the  market. 
The  whole  family,  rated  by  the  market  prices  which  have 
been  paid  for  certain  members  of  it,  might  be  estimated  as 
an  estate  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars.  They  were  distin 
guished  for  intelligence,  honesty,  and  faithfulness,  but  above 
all  for  the  most  devoted  attachment  to  each  other.  These 
children,  thus  intelligent,  were  all  held  as  slaves  in  the  city 


A   KEY   TO    UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  399 

of  Washington,  the  very  capital  where  our  national  govern 
ment  is  conducted.  Of  course,  the  high  estimate  which 
their  own  mother  taught  them  to  place  upon  liberty  was  in 
the  way  of  being  constantly  strengthened  and.  reinforced  by 
such  addresses,  celebrations,  and  speeches,  on  the  subject 
of  liberty,  as  every  one  knows  are  constantly  being  made, 
on  one  occasion  or  another,  in  our  national  capital. 

On  the  13th  of  April,  the  little  schooner  Pearl,  com 
manded  by  Daniel  Drayton,  came  to  anchor  in  the  Potomac 
River,  at  Washington. 

The  news  had  just  arrived  of  a  revolution  in  France,  and 
the  establishment  of  a  democratic  government,  and  all 
Washington  was  turning  out  to  celebrate  the  triumph  of 
Liberty. 

The  trees  in  the  avenue  were  fancifully  hung  with  many- 
colored  lanterns,  —  drums  beat,  bands  of  music  played,  the 
houses  of  the  President  and  other  high  officials  were  illu 
minated,  and  men,  women,  and  children  were  all  turned 
out  to  see  the  procession,  and  to  join  in  the  shouts  of  lib 
erty  that  rent  the  air.  Of  course,  all  the  slaves  of  the  city, 
lively,  fanciful,  and  sympathetic,  most  excitable  as  they  are 
by  music  and  by  dazzling  spectacles,  were  everywhere  lis 
tening,  seeing,  and  rejoicing,  in  ignorant  joy.  All  the 
heads  of  departments,  senators,  representatives,  and  dignita 
ries  of  all  kinds,  marched  in  procession  to  an  open  space  on 
Pennsylvania  Avenue,  and  there  delivered  congratulatory 
addresses  on  the  progress  of  universal  freedom.  With 
unheard-of  imprudence,  the  most  earnest  defenders  of  slave- 
holding  institutions  poured  down  on  the  listening  crowd, 
both  of  black  and  white,  bond  and  free,  the  most  inflam 
matory  and  incendiary  sentiments.  Such,  for  example,  as 
the  following  language  of  Hon.  Frederick  P.  Stanton,  of 
Tennessee  :  — 

"  We  do  not,  indeed,  propagate  our  principles  with  the  sword 
of  power ;  but  there  is  one  sense  in  which  we  are  propagand- 


400  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

ists.  We  cannot  help  being  so.  Our  example  is  contagious.  In 
the  section  of  this  great  country  where  I  live,  on  the  banks  of 
the  mighty  Mississippi  River,  we  have  the  true  emblem  of  the 
tree  of  liberty.  There  you  may  see  the  giant  cottoiiwood  spread 
ing  his  branches  widely  to  the  winds  of  heaven.  Sometimes 
the  current  lays  bare  his  roots,  and  you  behold  them  extending 
far  around,  and  penetrating  to  an  immense  depth  in  the  soil. 
When  the  season  of  maturity  comes,  the  air  is  filled  with  a 
cotton-like  substance,  which  floats  in  every  direction,  bearing 
on  its  light  wings  the  living  seeds  of  the  mighty  tree.  Thus 
the  seeds  of  freedom  have  emanated  from  the  tree  of  our  liber 
ties.  They  fill  the  air.  They  are  wafted  to  every  part  of  the 
habitable  globe.  And  even  in  the  barren  sands  of  tyranny 
they  are  destined  to  take  root.  The  tree  of  liberty  will  spring 
up  everywhere,  and  nations  shall  recline  in  its  shade." 

Senator  Foote,  of  Mississippi,  also  used  this  language  : 

"  Such  has  been  the  extraordinary  course  of  events  in  France, 
and  in  Europe,  within  the  last  two  months,  that  the  more 
deliberately  we  survey  the  scene  which  has  been  spread  out  be 
fore  us,  and  the  more  rigidly  we  scrutinize  the  conduct  of  its 
actors,  the  more  confident  does  our  conviction  become  that  the 
glorious  ivork  which  has  been  so  well  begun  cannot  possibly 
fail  of  complete  accomplishment ;  that  the  age  of  TYRANTS 
AND  SLAVERY  is  rapidly  drawing  to  a  close ;  and  that  the  happy 
period  to  be  signalized  by  the  universal  emancipation  of  man 
from  the  fetters  of  civil  oppression,  and  the  recognition  in  all 
countries  of  the  great  principles  of  popular  sovereignty,  equality, 
and  BROTHERHOOD,  is,  at  this  moment,  visibly  commencing." 

Will  any  one  be  surprised,  after  this,  that  seventy-seven 
of  the  most  intelligent  young  slaves,  male  and  female,  in 
Washington  city,  honestly  taking  Mr.  Foote  and  his  brother 
senators  at  their  word,  and  believing  that  the  age  of  tyrants 
and  slavery  was  drawing  to  a  close,  banded  together,  and 
made  an  effort  to  obtain  their  part  in  this  reign  of  universal 
brotherhood  ? 

The  schooner  Pearl  was  lying  in  the  harbor,  and  Captain 
Drayton  was  found  to  have  the  heart  of  a  man.  Perhaps 
he,  too,  had  listened  to  the  addresses  on  Pennsylvania 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  401 

Avenue,  and  thought,  in  the  innocence  of  his  heart,  that  a 
man  who  really  did  something  to  promote  universal  eman 
cipation  was  no  worse  than  the  men  who  only  made 
speeches  about  it. 

At  any  rate,  Drayton  was  persuaded  to  allow  these  sev 
enty-seven  slaves  to  secrete  themselves  in  the  hold  of  his 
vessel,  and  among  them  were  six  children  of  Paul  and 
Milly  Edmondson.  The  incidents  of  the  rest  of  the  narra 
tive  will  now  be  given  as  obtained  from  Mary  and  Emily 
Edmondson,  by  the  lady  in  whose  family  they  have  been 
placed  by  the  writer  for  an  education. 

Some  few  preliminaries  may  be  necessary,  in  order  to 
understand  the  account. 

A  respectable  colored  man,  by  the  name  of  Daniel  Bell, 
who  had  purchased  his  own  freedom,  resided  in  the  city  of 
Washington.  His  wife,  with  her  eight  children,  were 
set  free  by  her  master,  when  on  his  death-bed.  The  heirs 
endeavored  to  break  the  will,  on  the  ground  that  he  was 
not  of  sound  mind  at  the  time  of  its  preparation.  The 
magistrate,  however,  before  whom  it  was  executed,  by  his 
own  personal  knowledge  of  the  competence  of  the  man  at 
the  time,  was  enabled  to  defeat  their  purpose  ;  the  family, 
therefore,  lived  as  free  for  some  years.  On  the  death  of 
this  magistrate,  the  heirs  again  brought  the  case  into  court, 
and,  as  it  seemed  likely  to  be  decided  against  the  family, 
they  resolved  to  secure  their  legal  rights  by  flight,  and  en 
gaged  passage  on  board  the  vessel  of  Captain  Drayton. 
Many  of  their  associates  and  friends,  stirred  up,  perhaps, 
by  the  recent  demonstrations  in  favor  of  liberty,  begged 
leave  to  accompany  them  in  their  night.  The  seeds  of 
the  cottonwood  were  flying  everywhere,  and  springing  up 
in  all  hearts  ;  so  that,  on  the  eventful  evening  of  the  15th 
of  April,  1848,  not  less  than  seventy-seven  men,  women, 
and  children,  with  beating  hearts,  arid  anxious  secrecy, 
stowed  themselves  away  in  the  hold  of  the  little  schooner, 


402  A   KEY    TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

and  Certain  Drayton  was  so  wicked  that  he  could  not,  for 
the  life  of  him,  say  "  Nay  "  to  one  of  them. 

Richard  Edmondson  had  long  sought  to  buy  his  liberty ; 
had  toiled  for  it  early  and  late  :  but  the  price  set  upon  him 
was  so  high  that  he  despaired  of  ever  earning  it.  On  this 
evening,  he  and  his  three  brothers  thought,  as  the  reign  of 
universal  brotherhood  had  begun,  and  the  reign  of  tyrants 
and  slavery  come  to  an  end,  that  they  would  take  to  them 
selves  and  their  sisters  that  sacred  gift  of  liberty,  which 
all  Washington  had  been  informed,  two  evenings  before,  it 
was  the  peculiar  province  of  America  to  give  to  all  nations. 
Their  two  sisters,  aged  sixteen  and  fourteen,  were  hired  out 
in  families  in  the  city.  On  this  evening  Samuel  Edmond 
son  called  at  the  house  where  Emily  lived,  and  told  her  of 
the  projected  plan. 

"  But  what  will  mother  think  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"  Don't  stop  to  think  of  her ;  she  would  rather  we  'd  be 
free  than  to  spend  time  to  talk  about  her." 

"Well,  then,  if  Mary  will  go,  I  will." 

The  girls  give  as  a  reason  for  wishing  to  escape,  that 
though  they  had  never  suffered  hardships  or  been  treated 
unkindly,  yet  they  knew  they  were  liable  at  any  time  to  be 
sold  into  rigorous  bondage,  and  separated  far  from  all  they 
loved. 

They  then  all  went  on  board  the  Pearl,  which  was  lying 
a  little  way  off  from  the  place  where  vessels  usually  anchor. 
There  they  found  a  company  of  slaves,  seventy-seven  in 
number. 

At  twelve  o'clock  at  night  the  silent  wings  of  the  little 
schooner  were  spread,  and  with  her  weight  of  fear  and  mys 
tery  she  glided  out  into  the  stream.  A  fresh  breeze  sprang 
up,  and  by  eleven  o'clock  next  night  they  had  sailed  two 
hundred  miles  from  Washington,  and  began  to  think  that 
liberty  was  gained.  They  anchored  in  a  place  called  Corn 
field  Harbor,  intending  to  wait  for  daylight.  All  laid  down 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  403 

to  sleep  in  peaceful  security,  lulled  by  the  gentle  rock  of  the 
vessel  and  the  rippling  of  the  waters. 

But  at  two  o'clock  at  night  they  were  roused  by  terrible 
noises  on  deck,  scuffling,  screaming,  swearing,  and  groaning. 
A  steamer  had  pursued  and  overtaken  them,  and  the  little 
schooner  was  boarded  by  an  infuriated  set  of  armed  men. 
In  a  moment,  the  captain,  mate,  and  all  the  crew  were  seized 
and  bound,  amid  oaths  and  dreadful  threats.  As  they, 
swearing  and  yelling,  tore  open  the  hatches  on  the  defense 
less  prisoners  below,  Richard  Edmondson  stepped  forward, 
and  in  a  calm  voice  said  to  them,  "  Gentlemen,  do  your 
selves  no  harm,  for  we  are  all  here.77  With  this  exception, 
all  was  still  among  the  slaves  as  despair  could  make  it ;  not 
a  word  was  spoken  in  the  whole  company.  The  men  were 
all  bound  and  placed  on  board  the  steamer  ;  the  women 
were  left  on  board  the  schooner,  to  be  towed  after. 

The  explanation  of  their  capture  was  this :  In  the  morn 
ing  after  they  had  sailed,  many  families  in  Washington 
found  their  slaves  missing,  and  the  event  created  as  great 
an  excitement  as  the  emancipation  of  France  had,  two  days 
before.  At  that  time  they  had  listened  in  the  most  com 
placent  manner  to  the  announcement  that  the  reign  of  sla 
very  was  near  its  close,  because  they  had  not  the  slightest 
idea  that  the  language  meant  anything  ;  and  they  were 
utterly  confounded  by  this  practical  application  of  it.  More 
than  a  hundred  men,  mounted  upon  horses,  determined  to 
push  out  into  the  country,  in  pursuit  of  these  new  disciples 
of  the  doctrine  of  universal  emancipation.  Here  a  colored 
man,  by  the  name  of  Judson  Diggs,  betrayed  the  whole 
plot.  He  had  been  provoked,  because,  after  having  taken 
a  poor  woman,  with  her  luggage,  down  to  the  boat,  she 
was  unable  to  pay  the  twenty-five  cents  that  he  demanded. 
So  he  told  these  admirers  of  universal  brotherhood  that 
they  need  not  ride  into  the  country,  as  their  slaves  had 
sailed  down  the  river,  and  were  far  enough  off  by  this  time. 


404  A   KEY   TO   UXCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

A  steamer  was  immediately  manned  by  two  hundred  armed 
men,  and  away  they  went  in  pursuit. 

When  the  cortege  arrived  with  the  captured  slaves,  there 
was  a  most  furious  excitement  in  the  city.  The  men  were 
driven  through  the  streets  bound  with  ropes,  two  and  two. 
Showers  of  taunts  and  jeers  rained  upon  them  from  all  sides. 
One  man  asked  one  of  the  girls  if  she  "didn't  feel  pretty  to 
be  caught  running  away,'7  and  another  asked  her,  "if  she 
was  n't  sorry."  She  answered,  "  No,  if  it  was  to  do  again  to 
morrow,  she  would  do  the  same."  The  man  turned  to  a 
bystander  and  said,  "  Hain't  she  got  good  spunk  ?  " 

But  the  most  vehement  excitement  was  against  Drayton 
and  Sayres,  the  captain  and  mate  of  the  vessel.  Ruffians 
armed  with  dirk-knives  and  pistols  crowded  around  them, 
with  the  most  horrid  threats.  One  of  them  struck  so  near 
Drayton  as  to  cut  his  ear,  which  Emily  noticed  as  bleeding. 
Meanwhile  there  mingled  in  the  crowd  multitudes  of  the 
relatives  of  the  captives,  who,  looking  on  them  as  so  many 
doomed  victims,  bewailed  and  lamented  them.  A  brother- 
in-law  of  the  Edmondsons  was  so  overcome  when  he  saw 
them  that  he  fainted  away  and  fell  down  in  the  street,  and  was 
carried  home  insensible.  The  sorrowful  news  spread  to  the 
cottage  of  Paul  and  Milly  Edmondson ;  and,  knowing  that 
all  their  children  were  now  probably  doomed  to  the  Southern 
market,  they  gave  themselves  up  to  sorrow.  "  Oh  !  what  a 
day  that  was  !  "  said  the  old  mother  when  describing  that 
scene  to  the  writer.  "Never  a  morsel  of  anything  could  I 
put  into  my  mouth.  Paul  and  me,  we  fasted  and  prayed 
before  the  Lord,  night  and  day,  for  our  poor  children." 

The  whole  public  sentiment  of  the  community  was  roused 
to  the  most  intense  indignation.  It  was  repeated  from  mouth 
to  mouth  that  they  had  been  kindly  treated  and  never 
abused  ;  and  what  could  have  induced  them  to  try  to  get 
their  liberty  ?  All  that  Mr.  Stanton  had  said  of  the  in 
sensible  influence  of  American  institutions,  arid  all  his 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  405 

pretty  similes  about  the  cottonwood  seeds,  seemed  entirely 
to  have  escaped  the  memory  of  the  community,  and  they 
could  see  nothing  but  the  most  unheard-of  depravity  in  the 
attempt  of  these  people  to  secure  freedom.  It  was  strenu 
ously  advised  by  many  that  their  owners  should  not  forgive 
them,  —  that  no  mercy  should  be  showTn,  but  that  they 
should  be  thrown  into  the  hands  of  the  traders,  forthwith, 
for  the  Southern  market,  —  that  Siberia  of  the  irresponsible 
despots  of  America. 

When  all  the  prisoners  were  lodged  in  jail,  the  owners 
came  to  make  oath  to  their  property,  and  the  property  also 
was  required  to  make  oath  to  their  owners.  Among  them 
came  the  married  sisters  of  Mary  and  Emily,  but  were  not 
allowed  to  enter  the  prison.  The  girls  looked  through 
the  iron  grates  of  the  third-story  windows,  and  saw  their 
sisters  standing  below  in  the  yard  weeping. 

The  guardian  of  the  Edmondsons,  who  acted  in  the  place 
of  the  real  owner,  apparently  touched  with  their  sorrow, 
promised  their  family  and  friends,  who  were  anxious  to  pur 
chase  them,  if  possible,  that  they  should  have  an  opportunity 
the  next  morning.  Perhaps  he  intended  at  the  time  to  give 
them  one ;  but  as  Bruin  and  Hill,  the  keepers  of  the  large 
slave  warehouse  in  Alexandria,  offered  him  four  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars  for  the  six  children,  they  were  irrevoc 
ably  sold  before  the  next  morning.  Bruin  would  listen  to 
no  terms  which  any  of  their  friends  could  propose.  The 
lady  with  whom  Mary  had  lived  offered  a  thousand  dollars 
for  her ;  but  Bruin  refused,  saying  he  could  get  double 
that  sum  in  the  New  Orleans  market.  He  said  he  had  had 
his  eye  upon  the  family  for  twelve  years,  and  had  the 
promise  of  them  should  they  ever  be  sold. 

While  the  girls  remained  in  the  prison  they  had  no  beds 
or  chairs,  and  only  one  blanket  each,  though  the  nights 
were  chilly ;  but,  understanding  that  the  rooms  below, 
where  their  brothers  were  confined,  were  still  colder,  and 


406  A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

that  no  blankets  were  given  them,  they  sent  their  own 
down  to  them.  In  the  morning  they  were  allowed  to  go 
down  into  the  yard  for  a  few  moments  ;  and  then  they 
used  to  run  to  the  window  of  their  brothers'  room,  to  bid 
them  good-morning,  and  kiss  them  through  the  grate. 

At  ten  o'clock,  Thursday  night,  the  brothers  were  hand 
cuffed,  and,  with  their  sisters,  taken  into  carriages  by  their  new 
owners,  driven  to  Alexandria,  and  put  into  a  prison  called 
a  Georgia  Pen.  The  girls  were  put  into  a  large  room  alone, 
in  total  darkness,  without  bed  or  blanket,  where  they  spent 
the  night  in  sobs  and  tears,  in  utter  ignorance  of  their 
brothers'  fate.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  they  were 
called  to  breakfast,  when,  to  their  great  comfort,  they  found 
their  four  brothers  all  in  the  same  prison. 

They  remained  here  about  four  weeks,  being  usually 
permitted  by  day  to  stay  below  with  their  brothers,  and  at 
night  to  return  to  their  own  rooms.  Their  brothers  had 
great  anxieties  about  them,  fearing  they  would  be  sold 
South.  Samuel,  in  particular,  felt  very  sadly,  as  he  had 
been  the  principal  actor  in  getting  them  away.  He  often 
said  he  would  gladly  die  for  them,  if  that  would  save  them 
from  the  fate  he  feared.  He  used  to  weep  a  great  deal, 
though  he  endeavored  to  restrain  his  tears  in  their  presence. 

While  in  the  slave-prison  they  were  required  to  wash 
for  thirteen  men,  though  their  brothers  performed  a  great 
share  of  the  labor.  Before  they  left,  their  size  and  height 
were  measured  by  their  owners.  At  length  they  were  again 
taken  out,  the  brothers  handcuffed,  and  all  put  on  board  a 
steamboat,  where  were  about  forty  slaves,  mostly  men,  and 
taken  to  Baltimore.  The  voyage  occupied  one  day  and  a 
night.  When  arrived  in  Baltimore,  they  were  thrown  into 
a  slave-pen  kept  by  a  partner  of  Bruin  and  Hill.  He  was 
a  man  of  coarse  habits,  constantly  using  the  most  profane 
language,  and  grossly  obscene  and  insulting  in  his  remarks 
to  women.  Here  they  were  forbidden  to  pray  together,  as 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  407 

they  had  previously  been  accustomed  to  do  ;  but  by  rising 
very  early  in  the  morning,  they  secured  to  themselves  a  little 
interval  which  they  could  employ,  uninterrupted,  in  this 
manner.  They,  with  four  or  five  other  women  in  the 
prison,  used  to  meet  together,  before  daybreak,  to  spread 
their  sorrows  before  the  Refuge  of  the  afflicted  ;  and  in 
these  prayers  the  hard-hearted  slave-dealer  was  daily  remem 
bered.  The  brothers  of  Mary  and  Emily  were  very  gentle 
and  tender  in  their  treatment  of  their  sisters,  which  had  an 
influence  upon  other  men  in  their  company. 

At  this  place  they  became  acquainted  with  Aunt  Eachel, 
a  most  godly  woman,  about  middle  age,  who  had  been  sold 
into  the  prison  away  from  her  husband.  The  poor  husband 
used  often  to  come  to  the  prison  and  beg  the  trader  to  sell 
her  to  his  owners,  who  he  thought  were  willing  to  purchase 
her,  if  the  price  was  not  too  high.  But  he  was  driven  off 
with  brutal  threats  and  curses.  They  remained  in  Balti 
more  about  three  weeks. 

The  friends  in  Washington,  though  hitherto  unsuccessful 
in  their  efforts  to  redeem  the  family,  were  still  exerting 
themselves  in  their  behalf ;  and  one  evening  a  message  was 
received  from  them  by  telegraph,  stating  that  a  person 
would  arrive  in  the  morning  train  of  cars,  prepared  to  bar 
gain  for  the  family,  and  that  a  part  of  the  money  was  now 
ready.  But  the  trader  was  inexorable,  and  in  the  morning, 
an  hour  before  the  cars  were  to  arrive,  they  were  all  put  on 
board  the  brig  Union,  ready  to  sail  for  New  Orleans.  The 
messenger  came,  and  brought  nine  hundred  dollars  in  money, 
the  gift  of  a  grandson  of  John  Jacob  Astor.  This  was 
finally  appropriated  to  the  ransom  of  Richard  Edmondson, 
as  his  wife  and  children  were  said  to  be  suffering  in  Washing 
ton  ;  and  the  trader  would  not  sell  the  girls  to  them  upon 
any  consideration,  nor  would  he  even  suffer  Richard  to  be 
brought  back  from  the  brig,  which  had  not  yet  sailed.  The 
bargain  was,  however,  made,  and  the  money  deposited  in 
Baltimore. 


408  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN 

On  this  brig  the  eleven  women  were  put  in  one  small  apart 
ment,  and  the  thirty  or  forty  men  in  an  adjoining  one. 
Emily  was  very  seasick  most  of  the  time,  and  her  brothers 
feared  she  would  die.  They  used  to  come  and  carry  her 
out  on  deck  and  back  again,  buy  little  comforts  for  their  sis 
ters,  and  take  all  possible  care  of  them. 

Frequently  head  winds  blew  them  back  so  that  they  made 
very  slow  progress  ;  and  in  their  prayer-meetings,  which  they 
held  every  night,  they  used  to  pray  that  head  winds  might 
blow  them  to  New  York ;  and  one  of  the  sailors  declared 
that  if  they  could  get  within  one  hundred  miles  of  New 
York,  and  the  slaves  would  stand  by  him,  he  would  make 
way  with  the  captain,  and  pilot  them  into  New  York  him 
self. 

When  they  arrived  near  Key  West,  they  hoisted  a  signal 
for  a  pilot,  the  captain  being  aware  of  the  dangers  of  the 
place,  and  yet  not  knowing  how  to  avoid  them.  As  the 
pilot-boat  approached,  the  slaves  Avere  all  fastened  below, 
and  a  heavy  canvas  thrown  over  the  grated  hatchway  door, 
which  entirely  excluded  all  circulation  of  air,  and  almost 
produced  suffocation.  The  captain  and  pilot  had  a  long  talk 
about  the  price,  and  some  altercation  ensued,  the  captain  not 
being  willing  to  give  the  price  demanded  by  the  pilot ;  dur 
ing  which  time  there  was  great  suffering  below.  The 
women  became  so  exhausted  that  they  were  mostly  helpless  ; 
and  the  situation  of  the  men  was  not  much  better,  though 
they  managed  with  a  stick  to  break  some  holes  through  the 
canvas  on  their  side,  so  as  to  let  in  a  little  air,  but  a  few 
only  of  the  strongest  could  get  there  to  enjoy  it.  Some  of 
them  shouted  for  help  as  long  as  their  strength  would  per 
mit  ;  and  at  length,  after  what  seemed  to  them  an  almost 
interminable  interview,  the  pilot  left,  refusing  to  assist  them  ; 
the  canvas  was  removed,  and  the  brig  obliged  to  turn  tack, 
and  take  another  course.  Then,  one  after  another,  as  they 
got  air  and  strength,  crawled  out  on  deck.  Mary  and  Emily 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  409 

were  carried  out  by  their  brothers  as  soon  as  they  were 
able  to  do  it. 

Soon  after  this  the  stock  of  provisions  ran  low,  and  the 
water  failed,  so  that  the  slaves  were  restricted  to  a  gill  a  day. 
The  sailors  were  allowed  a  quart  each,  and  often  gave  a  pint 
of  it  to  one  of  the  Edmondsons  for  their  sisters  ;  and  they 
divided  it  with  the  other  women,  as  they  always  did  every 
nice  thing  they  got  in  such  wrays. 

The  day  they  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  a 
terrible  storm  arose,  and  the  waves  rolled  mountain  high, 
so  that,  when  the  pilot-boat  approached,  it  would  sometimes 
seem  to  be  entirely  swallowed  by  the  waves,  and  again  it 
would  emerge,  and  again  appear  wholly  buried.  At  length 
they  were  towed  into  and  up  the  river  by  a  steamer,  and 
there  for  the  first  time  saw  cotton  plantations,  and  gangs  of 
slaves  at  work  on  them. 

They  arrived  at  New  Orleans  in  the  night,  and  about  ten 
the  next  day  were  landed  and  marched  to  what  they  called 
the  show-rooms,  and,  going  out  into  the  yard,  saw  a  great 
many  men  and  women  sitting  around,  with  such  sad  faces 
that  Emily  soon  began  to  cry,  upon  which  an  overseer  stepped 
up  and  struck  her  on  the  chin,  and  bade  her  "  stop  crying, 
or  he  would  give  her  something  to  cry  about."  Then  point 
ing,  he  told  her  "  there  was  the  calaboose,  where  they 
whipped  those  who  did  not  behave  themselves !  "  As  soon 
as  he  turned  away,  a  slave-woman  came  and  told  her  to  look 
cheerful,  if  she  possibly  could,  as  it  would  be  far  better 
for  her.  One  of  her  brothers  soon  came  to  inquire  what 
the  woman  had  been  saying  to  her ;  and  when  informed, 
encouraged  Emily  to  follow  the  advice,  and  endeavored  to 
profit  by  it  himself. 

That  night  all  four  brothers  had  their  hair  cut  close,  their 
mustaches  shaved  off,  and  their  usual  clothing  exchanged 
for  a  blue  jacket  and  pants,  all  of  which  so  altered  their 
appearance  that  at  first  their  sisters  did  not  know  them. 


410  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

Then,  for  three  successive  days,  they  were  all  obliged  to 
stand  in  an  open  porch  fronting  the  street,  for  passers-by  to 
look  at,  except,  when  one  was  tired  out,  she  might  go  in  for 
a  little  time,  and  another  take  her  place.  Whenever  buyers 
called,  they  were  paraded  in  the  auction-room  in  rows,  ex 
posed  to  coarse  jokes  and  taunts.  When  any  one  took  a 
liking  to  any  girl  in  the  company,  he  would  call  her  to  him, 
take  hold  of  her,  open  her  mouth,  look  at  her  teeth,  and 
handle  her  person  rudely,  frequently  making  obscene  re 
marks  ;  and  she  must  stand  and  bear  it,  without  resistance. 
Mary  and  Emily  complained  to  their  brothers  that  they 
could  not  submit  to  such  treament.  They  conversed  about 
it  with  Wilson,  a  partner  of  Bruin  and  Hill,  who  had  the 
charge  of  the  slaves  at  this  prison.  After  this  they  were 
treated  with  more  decency. 

Another  brother  of  the  girls,  named  Hamilton,  had  been 
a  slave  in  or  near  New  Orleans  for  sixteen  years,  and  had 
just  purchased  his  own  freedom  for  one  thousand  dollars  ; 
having  once  before  earned  that  sum  for  himself,  and  then 
had  it  taken  from  him.  Richard  being  now  really  free,  as 
the  money  was  deposited  in  Baltimore  for  his  ransom,  found 
him  out  the  next  day  after  their  arrival  at  New  Orleans, 
and  brought  him  to  the  prison  to  see  his  brothers  and  sisters. 
The  meeting  was  overpoweringly  affecting. 

He  had  never  before  seen  his  sister  Emily,  as  he  had 
been  sold  away  from  his  parents  before  her  birth. 

The  girls'  lodging-room  was  occupied  at  night  by  about 
twenty  or  thirty  women,  wrho  all  slept  on  the  bare  floor,  with 
only  a  blanket  each.  After  a  few  days,  word  was  received 
(which  was  really  incorrect)  that  half  the  money  had  been 
raised  for  the  redemption  of  Mary  and  Emily.  After  this 
they  were  allowed,  upon  their  brother's  earnest  request,  to 
go  to  their  free  brother's  house  and  spend  their  nights,  and 
return  in  the  mornings,  as  they  had  suffered  greatly  from 
the  mosquitoes  and  other  insects,  and  their  feet  were  swollen 
and  sore. 


A    KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN  411 

While  at  this  prison,  some  horrible  cases  of  cruelty  came 
to  their  knowledge,  and  some  of  them  under  their  own 
observation.  Two  persons,  one  woman  and  one  boy,  were 
whipped  to  death  in  the  prison  while  they  were  there,  though 
they  were  not  in  the  same  pen,  or  owned  by  the  same  trader, 
as  themselves. 

None  of  the  slaves  were  allowed  to  sleep  in  the  daytime, 
and  sometimes  little  children  sitting  or  standing  idle  all  day 
would  become  so  sleepy  as  not  to  be  able  to  hold  up  their 
eyelids  ;  but  if  they  were  caught  thus  by  the  overseer,  they 
were  cruelly  beaten.  Mary  and  Emily  used  to  watch  the 
little  ones,  and  let  them  sleep  until  they  heard  the  over 
seers  coming,  and  then  spring  and  rouse  them  in  a  moment. 

One  young  woman,  who  had  been  sold  by  the  traders  for 
the  worst  of  purposes,  was  returned,  not  being  fortunate  (?) 
enough  to  suit  her  purchaser ;  and,  as  is  their  custom  in 
such  cases,  was  most  cruelly  flogged,  —  so  much  so  that 
some  of  her  flesh  mortified,  and  her  life  was  despaired  of. 
When  Mary  and  Emily  first  arrived  at  New  Orleans  they 
saw  and  conversed  with  her.  She  was  then  just  beginning 
to  sit  up  ;  was  quite  small,  and  very  fine-looking,  with  beau 
tiful  straight  hair,  which  was  formerly  long,  but  had  been 
cut  off  short  by  her  brutal  tormentors. 

The  overseer  who  flogged  her  said,  in  their  hearing,  that 
he  would  never  flog  another  girl  in  that  way  —  it  was  too 
much  for  any  one  to  bear.  They  suggest  that  perhaps  the 
reason  why  he  promised  this  was  because  he  was  obliged  to 
be  her  nurse,  and  of  course  saw  her  sufferings.  She  was 
from  Alexandria,  but  they  have  forgotten  her  name. 

One  young  man  and  woman  of  their  company  in  the  pri 
son,  who  were  engaged  to  be  married,  and  were  sold  to  differ 
ent  owners,  felt  so  distressed  at  their  separation  that  they 
could  not  do  or  did  not  labor  well ;  and  the  young  man  was 
soon  sent  back,  with  the  complaint  that  he  would  not  an 
swer  the  purpose.  Of  course,  the  money  was  to  be  refunded, 


412  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

and  he  flogged.  He  was  condemned  to  be  flogged  each  night 
for  a  week  ;  and,  after  about  two  hundred  lashes  by  the  over 
seer,  each  one  of  the  male  slaves  in  the  prison  was  required 
to  come  and  lay  on  five  lashes  with  all  his  strength,  upon  pen 
alty  of  being  flogged  himself.  The  young  woman,  too,  was 
soon  sent  there,  with  a  note  from  her  new  mistress,  requesting 
that  she  might  be  whipped  a  certain  number  of  lashes,  and 
enclosing  the  money  to  pay  for  it ;  which  request  was  readily 
complied  with. 

While  in  New  Orleans  they  saw  gangs  of  women  cleaning 
the  streets,-  chained  together,  some  with  a  heavy  iron  ball 
attached  to  the  chain ;  a  form  of  punishment  frequently  re 
sorted  to  for  household  servants  who  had  displeased  their 
mistresses. 

Hamilton  Edmondson,  the  brother  who  had  purchased  his 
own  freedom,  made  great  efforts  to  get  good  homes  for  his 
brothers  and  sisters  in  New  Orleans,  so  that  they  need  not 
be  far  separated  from  each  other.  One  day  Mr.  Wilson,  the 
overseer,  took  Samuel  away  with  him  in  a  carriage,  and  re 
turned  without  him.  The  brothers  and  sisters  soon  found 
that  he  was  sold,  and  gone  they  knew  not  whither;  but 
they  were  not  allowed  to  weep,  or  even  look  sad,  upon  pain 
of  severe  punishment.  The  next  day,  however,  to  their 
great  joy,  he  came  to  the  prison  himself,  and  told  them 
he  had  a  good  home  in  the  city  with  an  Englishman,  who 
had  paid  a  thousand  dollars  for  him. 

After  remaining  about  three  weeks  in  this  prison,  the 
Edmondsons  were  told  that  in  consquence  of  the  prevalence 
of  the  yellow  fever  in  the  city,  together  with  the  fact  of 
their  not  being  acclimated,  it  was  deemed  dangerous  for  them 
to  remain  there  longer;  and  besides  this,  purchasers  were 
loth  to  give  good  prices  under  these  circumstances.  Some 
of  the  slaves  in  the  pen  were  already  sick  ;  some  of  them  old, 
poor,  or  dirty,  and  for  these  reasons  greatly  exposed  to  sick 
ness.  Richard  Edmondson  had  already  been  ransomed,  and 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  413 

must  be  sent  back  ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  it  was  thought  best 
to  fit  out  and  send  off  a  gang  to  Baltimore,  without  delay. 

The  Edmondsons  received  these  tidings  with  joyful 
hearts,  for  they  had  not  yet  been  undeceived  with  regard 
to  the  raising  of  the  money  for  their  ransom.  Their 
brother  who  was  free  procured  for  them  many  comforts  for 
the  voyage,  such  as  a  mattress,  blankets,  sheets,  and  differ 
ent  kinds  of  food  and  drink  ;  and,  accompanied  to  the  ves 
sel  by  their  friends  there,  they  embarked  on  the  brig  Union 
just  at  night,  and  were  towed  out  of  the  river.  The  brig 
had  nearly  a  full  cargo  of  cotton,  molasses,  sugar,  etc. ;  and 
of  course  the  space  for  the  slaves  was  exceedingly  limited. 
The  space  allotted  the  females  was  a  little,  close,  filthy 
room,  perhaps  eight  or  ten  feet  square,  filled  with  cotton 
within  two  or  three  feet  of  the  top  of  the  room,  except  the 
space  directly  under  the  hatchway  door.  Eichard  Ed- 
mondson  kept  his  sisters  upon  deck  with  him,  though  with 
out  a  shelter  ;  prepared  their  food  himself,  made  up  their 
bed  at  night  on  the  top  of  barrels,  or  wherever  he  could 
find  a  place,  and  then  slept  by  their  side.  Sometimes  a 
storm  would  arise  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  when  he 
would  spring  up  and  wake  them,  and,  gathering  up  their 
bed  and  bedding,  conduct  them  to  a  kind  of  a  little  pantry, 
where  they  could  all  three  just  stand,  till  the  storm  passed 
away.  Sometimes  he  contrived  to  make  a  temporary  shel 
ter  for  them  out  of  bits  of  boards,  or  something  else  on 
deck. 

After  a  voyage  of  sixteen  days,  they  arrived  at  Balti 
more,  fully  expecting  that  their  days  of  slavery  were  num 
bered.  Here  they  were  conducted  back  to  the  same  old 
prison  from  which  they  had  been  taken  a  few  weeks  be 
fore,  though  they  supposed  it  would  be  but  for  an  hour 
or  two.  Presently  Mr.  Bigelow,  of  Washington,  came  for 
Richard.  When  the  girls  found  that  they  were  not  to  be 
set  free  too,  their  grief  and  disappointment  were  unspeak- 


414  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

able.  But  they  were  separated,  —  Richard  to  go  to  his 
home,  his  wife,  and  children,  and  they  to  remain  in  the 
slave-prison.  Wearisome  days  and  nights  again  rolled  on. 
In  the  mornings  they  were  obliged  to  march  round  the 
yard  to  the  music  of  fiddles,  banjos,  etc.  ;  in  the  daytime 
they  washed  and  ironed  for  the  male  slaves,  slept  some,  and 
wept  a  great  deal.  After  a  few  weeks  their  father  came  to 
visit  them,  accompanied  by  their  sister. 

His  object  was  partly  to  ascertain  what  were  the  very 
lowest  terms  upon  which  their  keeper  would  sell  the  girls, 
as  he  indulged  a  faint  hope  that  in  some  way  or  other  the 
money  might  be  raised,  if  time  enough  were  allowed.  The 
trader  declared  he  should  soon  send  them  to  some  other 
slave-market,  but  he  would  wait  two  weeks,  and,  if  the 
friends  could  raise  the  money  in  that  time,  they  might 
have  them. 

The  night  their  father  and  sister  spent  in  the  prison 
with  them,  he  lay  in  the  room  over  their  heads  ;  and  they 
could  hear  him  groan  all  night,  while  their  sister  was 
weeping  by  their  side.  None  of  them  closed  their  eyes  in 
sleep. 

In  the  morning  came  again  the  wearisome  routine  of  the 
slave-prison.  Old  Paul  walked  quietly  into  the  yard,  and 
sat  down  to  see  the  poor  slaves  marched  around.  He  had 
never  seen  his  daughters  in  such  circumstances  before,  and 
his  feelings  quite  overcame  him.  The  yard  was  narrow, 
and  the  girls,  as  they  walked  by  him,  almost  brushing  him 
with  their  clothes,  could  just  hear  him  groaning  within 
himself,  "  Oh,  my  children,  my  children  !  " 

After  the  breakfast,  which  none  of  them  were  able  to 
eat,  they  parted  with  sad  hearts,  the  father  begging  the 
keeper  to  send  them  to  New  Orleans,  if  the  money  could 
not  be  raised,  as  perhaps  their  brothers  there  might  secure 
for  them  kind  masters. 

Two  or  three  weeks  afterwards  Bruin  and  Hill  visited 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  415 

the  prison,  dissolved  partnership  with  the  trader,  settled 
accounts,  and  took  the  Edmondsons  again  in  their  own 
possession. 

The  girls  were  roused  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  after 
they  had  fallen  asleep,  and  told  to  get  up  directly,  and  pre 
pare  for  going  home.  They  had  learned  that  the  word  of 
a  slave-holder  is  not  to  be  trusted,  and  feared  they  were 
going  to  be  sent  to  Richmond,  Virginia,  as  there  had  been 
talk  of  it.  They  were  soon  on  their  way  in  the  cars  with 
Bruin,  and  arrived  at  Washington  at  a  little  past  midnight. 

Their  hearts  throbbed  high  when,  after  these  long 
months  of  weary  captivity,  they  found  themselves  once 
more  in  the  city  where  were  their  brothers,  sisters,  and 
parents.  But  they  were  permitted  to  see  none  of  them, 
and  were  put  into  a  carriage  and  driven  immediately  to 
the  slave-prison  at  Alexandria,  where,  about  two  o'clock  at 
night,  they  found  themselves  in  the  same  forlorn  old  room 
in  which  they  had  begun  their  term  of  captivity. 

This  was  the  latter  part  of  August.  Again  they  were 
employed  in  washing,  ironing,  and  sewing  by  day,  and 
always  locked  up  by  night.  Sometimes  they  were  allowed 
to  sew  in  Bruin's  house,  and  even  to  eat  there.  After 
they  had  been  in  Alexandria  two  or  three  weeks,  their  eld 
est  married  sister,  not  having  heard  from  them  for  some 
time,  came  to  see  Bruin,  to  learn,  if  possible,  something  of 
their  fate  ;  and  her  surprise  and  joy  were  great  to  see  them 
once  more,  even  there.  After  a  few  weeks  their  old  father 
came  again  to  see  them.  Hopeless  as  the  idea  of  their 
emancipation  seemed,  he  still  clung  to  it.  He  had  had 
some  encouragement  of  assistance  in  Washington,  and  he 
purposed  to  go  North  to  see  if  anything  could  be  done 
there  ;  and  he  was  anxious  to  obtain  from  Bruin  what 
were  the  very  lowest  possible  terms  for  which  he  would 
sell  the  girls.  Bruin  drew  up  his  terms  in  the  following 
document,  which  we  subjoin :  — 


416  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

ALEXANDRIA,  VA.,  Sept.  5, 1848. 

The  bearer,  Paul  Edmondson,  is  the  father  of  two  girls, 
Mary  Jane  and  Emily  Catharine  Edmondson.  These  girls 
have  been  purchased  by  us,  and  once  sent  to  the  South  ;  and, 
upon  the  positive  assurance  that  the  money  for  them  would 
be  raised  if  they  were  brought  back,  they  were  returned.  No 
thing,  it  appears,  has  as  yet  been  done  in  this  respect  by  those 
who  promised,  and  we  are  on  the  very  eve  of  sending  them 
South  the  second  time  ;  and  we  are  candid  in  saying  that,  if 
they  go  again,  we  will  not  regard  any  promises  made  in  rela 
tion  to  them.  The  father  wishes  to  raise  money  to  pay  for 
them,  and  intends  to  appeal  to  the  liberality  of  the  humane 
and  the  good  to  aid  him,  and  has  requested  us  to  state  in  writ 
ing  the  conditions  upon  which  we  will  sell  his  daughters. 

We  expect  to  start  our  servants  to  the  South  in  a  few  days ; 
if  the  sum  of  twelve  hundred  ($1200)  dollars  be  raised  and 
paid  to  us  in  fifteen  days,  or  we  be  assured  of  that  sum, 
then  we  will  retain  them  for  twenty-five  days  more,  to  give 
an  opportunity  for  the  raising  of  the  other  thousand  and 
fifty  ($1050)  dollars ;  otherwise  we  shall  be  compelled  to 
send  them  along  with  our  other  servants. 

BRUIN  &  HILL. 

Paul  took  his  papers,  and  parted  from  his  daughters 
sorrowfully.  After  this,  the  time  to  the  girls  dragged  on 
in  heavy  suspense.  Constantly  they  looked  for  letter,  or 
message,  and  prayed  to  God  to  raise  them  up  a  deliverer 
from  some  quarter.  But  day  after  day  and  week  after 
week  passed,  and  the  dreaded  time  drew  near.  The  pre 
liminaries  for  fitting  up  the  gang  for  South  Carolina  com 
menced.  Gay  calico  was  bought  for  them  to  make  up  into 
"  show  dresses,  "  in  which  they  were  to  be  exhibited  on 
sale.  They  made  them  up  with  far  sadder  feelings  than 
they  would  have  sewed  on  their  own  shrouds.  Hope  had 
almost  died  out  of  their  bosoms.  A  few  days  before  the 
gang  were  to  be  sent  off,  their  sister  made  them  a  sad  fare 
well  visit.  They  mingled  their  prayers  and  tears,  and  the 
girls  made  up  little  tokens  of  remembrance  to  send  by  her 
as  parting  gift  to  their  brothers,  and  sisters,  and  aged  father 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  417 

and  mother,  and  with  a  farewell  sadder  than  that  of  a 
death-bed  the  sisters  parted. 

The  evening  before  the  coffle  was  to  start  drew  on. 
Mary  and  Emily  went  to  the  house  to  bid  Bruin's  family 
good-by.  Bruin  had  a  little  daughter  who  had  been  a  pet 
and  favorite  with  the  girls.  She  clung  round  them,  cried, 
and  begged  them  not  to  go.  Emily  told  her  that,  if  she 
wished  to  have  them  stay,  she  must  go  and  ask  her  father. 
Away  ran  the  little  pleader,  full  of  her  errand ;  and  was  so 
very  earnest  in  her  importunities,  that  he,  to  pacify  her, 
said  he  would  consent  to  their  remaining,  if  his  partner, 
Captain  Hill,  would  do  so.  At  this  time  Bruin,  hearing 
Mary  crying  aloud  in  the  prison,  went  up  to  see  her. 
With  all  the  earnestness  of  despair,  she  made  her  last 
appeal  to  his  feelings.  She  begged  him  to  make  the  case 
his  own,  to  think  of  his  own  dear  little  daughter, —  what  if 
she  were  exposed  to  be  torn  away  from  every  friend  on 
earth,  and  cut  off  from  all  hope  of  redemption,  at  the  very 
moment,  too,  when  deliverance  was  expected !  Bruin  was 
not  absolutely  a  man  of  stone,  and  this  agonizing  appeal 
brought  tears  to  his  eyes.  He  gave  some  encouragement 
that,  if  Hill  would  consent,  they  need  not  be  sent  off  with 
the  gang.  A  sleepless  night  followed,  spent  in  weeping, 
groaning,  and  prayer.  Morning  at  last  dawned,  and,  accord 
ing  to  orders  received  the  day  before,  they  prepared  them 
selves  to  go,  and  even  put  on  their  bonnets  and  shawls,  and 
stood  ready  for  the  word  to  be  given.  When  the  very  last 
tear  of  hope  was  shed,  and  they  were  going  out  to  join  the 
gang,  Bruin's  heart  relented.  He  called  them  to  him,  and 
told  them  they  might  remain  !  Oh,  how  glad  were  their 
hearts  made  by  this,  as  they  might  now  hope  on  a  little 
longer !  Either  the  entreaties  of  little  Martha  or  Mary's 
plea  with  Bruin  had  prevailed. 

Soon  the  gang  was  started  on  foot,  —  men,  women,  and 
children,  two  and  two,  the  men  all  handcuffed  together, 


418  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

the  right  wrist  of  one  to  the  left  wrist  of  the  other,  and  a 
chain  passing  through  the  middle  from  the  handcuffs  of  one 
couple  to  those  of  the  next.  The  women  and  children 
walked  in  the  same  manner  throughout,  handcuffed  or 
chained.  Drivers  went  before  and  at  the  side,  to  take  up 
those  who  were  sick  or  lame.  They  were  obliged  to  set  off 
singing  !  accompanied  with  fiddles  and  banjos  !  — ((  For 
they  that  carried  us  away  captive  required  of  us  a  song, 
and  they  that  wasted  us  required  of  us  mirth.  "  And 
this  is  a  scene  of  daily  occurrence  in  a  Christian  country  ! 
—  and  Christian  ministers  say  that  the  right  to  do  these 
things  is  given  by  God  himself!  ! 

Meanwhile  poor  old  Paul  Edmondson  went  northward  to 
supplicate  aid.  Any  one  who  should  have  traveled  in  the 
cars  at  the  time  might  have  seen  a  venerable-looking  black 
man,  all  whose  air  and  attitude  indicated  a  patient  humility, 
and  who  seemed  to  carry  a  weight  of  overwhelming  sorrow, 
like  one  who  had  long  been  acquainted  with  grief.  That 
man  was  Paul  Edmondson. 

Alone,  friendless,  unknown,  and,  worst  of  all,  black,  he 
came  into  the  great  bustling  city  of  New  York,  to  see  if 
there  was  any  one  there  who  could  give  him  twenty-five 
hundred  dollars  to  buy  his  daughters  with.  Can  anybody 
realize  what  a  poor  man's  feelings  are,  who  visits  a  great, 
bustling,  rich  city,  alone,  and  unknown,  for  such  an  object  ? 
The  writer  has  now,  in  a  letter  from  a  slave  father  and 
husband  who  was  visiting  Portland  on  a  similar  errand,  a 
touching  expression  of  it :  — 

"  I  walked  all  day,  till  I  was  tired  and  discouraged.    Oh  !  Mrs. 

S ,  when  I  see  so  many  people  who  seem  to  have  so  many 

more  things  than  they  want  or  know  what  to  do  with,  and  then 
think  that  I  have  worked  hard,  till  I  am  past  forty,  all  my  life, 
and  don't  own  even  my  own  wife  and  children,  it  makes  me 
feel  sick  and  discouraged  !  " 

So,  sick  at  heart  and  discouraged,  felt  Paul  Edmondson. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  419 

He  went  to  the  Anti-Slavery  Office,  and  made  his  case 
known.  The  sum  was  such  a  large  one,  and  seemed  to 
many  so  exorbitant,  that,  though  they  pitied  the  poor 
father,  they  were  disheartened  about  raising  it.  They 
wrote  to  Washington  to  authenticate  the  particulars  of  the 
story,  and  wrote  to  Bruin  and  Hill  to  see  if  there  could 
be  any  reduction  of  price.  Meanwhile,  the  poor  old  man 
looked  sadly  from  one  adviser  to  another.  He  was  recom 
mended  to  go  to  the  Rev.  H.  W.  Beecher,  and  tell  his  story. 
He  inquired  his  way  to  his  door,  —  ascended  the  steps  to 
ring  the  door-bell,  but  his  heart  failed  him,  —  he  sat  down 
on  the  steps  weeping ! 

There  Mr.  Beecher  found  him.  He  took  him  in,  and 
inquired  his  story.  There  was  to  be  a  public  meeting  that 
night  to  raise  money.  The  hapless  father  begged  him  to 
go  and  plead  for  his  children.  He  did  go,  and  spoke  as 
if  he  were  pleading  for  his  own  father  and  sisters.  Other 
clergymen  followed  in  the  same  strain,  —  the  meeting  be 
came  enthusiastic,  and  money  was  raised  on  the  spot,  and 
poor  old  Paul  laid  his  head  that  night  on  a  grateful  pillow, 
—  not  to  sleep,  but  to  give  thanks ! 

Meanwhile  the  girls  had  been  dragging  on  anxious  days 
in  the  slave-prison.  They  were  employed  in  sewing  for 
Bruin's  family,  staying  sometimes  in  the  prison  and  some 
times  in  the  house. 

It  is  to  be  stated  here  that  Mr.  Bruin  is  a  man  of  very 
different  character  from  many  in  his  trade.  He  is  such  a 
man  as  never  would  have  been  found  in  the  profession  of 
a  slave-trader,  had  not  the  most  respectable  and  religious 
part  of  the  community  defended  the  right  to  buy  and  sell, 
as  being  conferred  by  God  himself.  It  is  a  fact,  with 
regard  to  this  man,  that  he  was  one  of  the  earliest  subscrib 
ers  to  the  "  National  Era,"  in  the  District  of  Columbia  ; 
and  when  a  certain  individual  there  brought  himself  into 
great  peril  by  assisting  fugitive  slaves,  and  there  was  no 


420  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN 

one  found  to  go  bail  for  him,  Mr.  Bruin  came  forward  and 
performed  this  kindness. 

While  we  abhor  the  horrible  system  and  the  horrible 
trade  with  our  whole  soul,  there  is  no  harm,  we  suppose,  in 
wishing  that  such  a  man  had  a  better  occupation.  Yet  we 
cannot  forbear  reminding  all  such  that,  when  we  come  to 
give  our  account  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  every  man 
must  speak  for  himself  alone  ;  and  that  Christ  will  not  ac 
cept  as  an  apology  for  sin  the  word  of  all  the  ministers  and 
all  the  synods  in  the  country.  He  has  given  fair  warning, 
"  Beware  of  false  prophets  ;  "  and  if  people  will  not  beware 
of  them,  their  blood  is  upon  their  own  heads. 

The  girls,  while  under  Mr.  Bruin's  care,  were  treated 
with  as  much  kindness  and  consideration  as  could  possibly 
consist  with  the  design  of  selling  them.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  Bruin  was  personally  friendly  to  them,  and  really 
wished  most  earnestly  that  they  might  be  ransomed ;  but 
then  he  did  not  see  how  he  was  to  lose  two  thousand  five 
hundred  dollars.  He  had  just  the  same  difficulty  on  this 
subject  that  some  New  York  members  of  churches  have  had, 
when  they  have  had  slaves  brought  into  their  hands  as 
security  for  Southern  debts.  He  was  sorry  for  them,  and 
wished  them  well,  and  hoped  Providence  would  provide  for 
them  when  they  were  sold,  but  still  he  could  not  afford  to 
lose  his  money  ;  and  while  such  men  remain  elders  and 
communicants  in  churches  in  New  York,  we  must  not  be 
surprised  that  there  remain  slave-traders  in  Alexandria. 

It  is  one  great  art  of  the  enemy  of  souls  to  lead  men  to 
compound  for  their  participation  in  one  branch  of  sin  by 
their  righteous  horror  of  another.  The  slave-trader  has 
been  the  general  scapegoat  on  whom  all  parties  have  vented 
their  indignation,  while  buying  of  him  and  selling  to  him. 

There  is  an  awful  warning  given  in  the  fiftieth  Psalm  to 
those  who  in  word  have  professed  religion,  and  in  deed  con 
sented  to  iniquity,  where  from  the  judgment-seat  Christ  is 


A   KEY  TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  421 

represented  as  thus  addressing  them  :  "  What  hast  thou  to 
do  to  declare  my  statutes,  or  that  thou  shouldst  take  my 
covenant  into  thy  mouth,  seeing  thou  hatest  instruction, 
and  castest  my  words  behind  thee  ?  When  thou  sawest  a 
thief,  then  thou  consentedst  with  him,  and  hast  been  par 
taker  with  adulterers." 

One  thing  is  certain,  that  all  those  who  do  these  things^ 
openly  or  secretly,  must,  at  last,  make  up  their  account  with 
a  Judge  who  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  and  who  will  just 
as  soon  condemn  an  elder  in  the  church  for  slave-trading  as 
a  professed  trader  ;  nay,  He  may  make  it  more  tolerable 
for  the  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  of  the  trade  than  for  them,  — 
for  it  may  be,  if  the  trader  had  the  means  of  grace  that  they 
have  had,  that  he  would  have  repented  long  ago. 

But  to  return  to  our  history.  The  girls  were  sitting 
sewing  near  the  open  window  of  their  cage,  when  Emily 
said  to  Mary,  "  There,  Mary,  is  that  white  man  we  have 
seen  from  the  North."  They  both  looked,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  more  saw  their  own  dear  father.  They  sprang  and 
ran  through  the  house  and  the  office,  and  into  the  street, 
shouting  as  they  ran,  followed  by  Bruin,  who  said  he 
thought  the  girls  were  crazy.  In  a  moment  they  were  in 
their  father's  arms,  but  observed  that  he  trembled  exceed 
ingly,  and  that  his  voice  was  unsteady.  They  eagerly 
inquired  if  the  money  was  raised  for  their  ransom.  Afraid 
of  exciting  their  hopes  too  soon,  before  their  free  papers 
were  signed,  he  said  he  would  talk  with  them  soon,  and 
went  into  the  office  with  Mr.  Bruin  and  Mr.  Chaplin.  Mr. 
Bruin  professed  himself  sincerely  glad,  as  undoubtedly  he 
was,  that  they  had  brought  the  money  ;  but  seemed  much 
hurt  by  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  spoken  of  by  the 
Rev.  H.  W.  Beecher  at  the  liberation  meeting  in  New 
York,  thinking  it  hard  that  no  difference  should  be  made 
between  him  and  other  traders,  when  he  had  shown  himself 
so  much  more  considerate  and  humane  than  the  great  body 


422 

of  them.  He,  however,  counted  over  the  money  and 
signed  the  papers  with  great  good  will,  taking  out  a  five- 
dollar  gold  piece  for  each  of  the  girls,  as  a  parting  present. 

The  affair  took  longer  than  they  supposed,  and  the  time 
seemed  an  age  to  the  poor  girls,  who  were  anxiously  walk 
ing  up  and  .  down  outside  the  room,  in  ignorance  of  their 
fate.  Could  their  father  have  brought  the  money  ?  Why 
did  he  tremble  so  ?  Could  he  have  failed  of  the  money,  at 
last  ?  Or  could  it  be  that  their  dear  mother  was  dead,  for 
they  had  heard  that  she  was  very  ill ! 

At  length  a  messenger  came  shouting  to  them,  "  You  are 
free !  You  are  free  !  "  Emily  thinks  she  sprang  nearly  to 
the  ceiling  overhead.  They  jumped,  clapped  their  hands, 
laughed,  and  shouted  aloud.  Soon  their  father  came  to 
them,  embraced  them  tenderly,  and  attempted  to  quiet  them, 
and  told  them  to  prepare  to  go  and  see  their  mother. 
This  they  did,  they  know  not  how,  but  with  considerable 
help  from  the  family,  who  all  seemed  to  rejoice  in  their 
joy.  Their  father  procured  a  carriage  to  take  them  to  the 
wharf,  and,  with  joy  overflowing  all  bounds,  they  bade  a 
most  affectionate  farewell  to  each  member  of  the  family, 
not  even  omitting  Bruin  himself.  The  "  good  that  there 
is  in  human  nature  "  for  once  had  the  upper  hand,  and  all 
were  moved  to  tears  of  sympathetic  joy.  Their  father, 
with  subdued  tenderness,  made  great  efforts  to  soothe  their 
tumultuous  feelings,  and  at  length  partially  succeeded. 
When  they  arrived  at  Washington,  a  carriage  was  ready  to 
take  them  to  their  sister's  house.  People  of  every  rank 
and  description  came  running  together  to  get  a  sight  of 
them.  Their  brothers  caught  them  up  in  their  arms,  and 
ran  about  with  them,  almost  frantic  with  joy.  Their 
aged  and  venerated  mother,  raised  up  from  a  sick-bed 
by  the  stimulus  of  the  glad  news,  was  there,  weeping  and 
giving  thanks  to  God.  Refreshments  were  •  prepared  in 
their  sister's  house  for  all  who  called,  and,  amid  greetings 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  423 

and  rejoicings,  tears  and  gladness,  prayers  and  thanksgiv 
ings,  but  without  sleep,  the  night  passed  away,  and  the 
morning  of  November  4,  1848,  dawned  upon  them  free  and 
happy. 

This  last  spring,  during  the  month  of  May,  as  the  writer 
has  already  intimated,  the  aged  mother  of  the  Edmondson 
family  came  on  to  New  York,  and  the  reason  of  her  coming 
may  be  thus  briefly  explained.  She  had  still  one  other 
daughter,  the  guide  and  support  of  her  feeble  age,  or  as  she 
calls  her  in  her  own  expressive  language,  "  the  last  drop  of 
blood  in  her  heart."  She  had  also  a  son,  twenty-one  years 
of  age,  still  a  slave  on  a  neighboring  plantation.  The  in 
firm  woman  in  whose  name  the  estate  was  held  was  sup 
posed  to  be  drawing  near  to  death,  and  the  poor  parents 
were  distressed  with  the  fear  that,  in  case  of  this  event, 
their  two  remaining  children  would  be  sold  for  the  pur 
pose  of  dividing  the  estate,  and  thus  thrown  into  the 
dreaded  Southern  market.  No  one  can  realize  what  a  con 
stant  horror  the  slave-prisons  and  the  slave-traders  are  to  all 
the  unfortunate  families  in  the  vicinity.  Everything  for 
which  other  parents  look  on  their  children  with  pleasure 
and  pride  is  to  these  poor  souls  a  source  of  anxiety  and  dis 
may,  because  it  renders  the  child  so  much  more  a  merchant 
able  article. 

It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  light  in  Paul  and 
Milly' s  cottage  was  overshadowed  by  this  terrible  idea. 

The  guardians  of  these  children  had  given  their  father  a 
written  promise  to  sell  them  to  him  for  a  certain  sum,  and 
by  hard  begging  he  had  acquired  a  hundred  dollars  towards 
the  twelve  hundred  which  were  necessary.  But  he  was 
now  confined  to  his  bed  with  sickness.  After  pouring  out 
earnest  prayers  to  the  Helper  of  the  helpless,  Milly  says, 
one  day  she  said  to  Paul,  "  I  tell  ye,  Paul,  I  'm  going  up  to 
New  York  myself,  to  see  if  I  can't  get  that  money." 

"  Paul  says   to   me,  '  Why,  Milly  dear,  how  can  you  ? 


424  A   KEY   TO  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

Ye  ain't  fit  to  be  off  the  bed,  and  ye  's  never  in  the  cars  in 
your  life.' 

" '  Never  you  fear,  Paul/  says  I ;  '  I  shall  go  trusting  in 
the  Lord ;  and  the  Lord,  He  '11  take  me,  and  He  '11  bring 
me,  —  that  I  know.' 

"  So  I  went  to  the  cars  and  got  a  white  man  to  put  me 
aboard ;  and,  sure  enough,  there  I  found  two  Bethel  minis 
ters  ;  and  one  set  one  side  o'  me,  and  one  set  the  other,  all 
the  way ;  and  they  got  me  my  tickets,  and  looked  after  my 
things,  and  did  everything  for  me.  There  did  n't  anything 
happen  to  me  all  the  way.  Sometimes,  when  I  went  to 
set  down  in  the  sitting-rooms,  people  looked  at  me  and 
moved  off  so  scornful !  Well,  I  thought,  I  wish  the  Lord 
would  give  you  a  better  mind." 

Emily  and  Mary,  who  had  been  at  school  in  New  York 
State,  came  to  the  city  to  meet  their  mother,  and  they 
brought  her  directly  to  the  Rev.  Henry  W.  Beecher's  house, 
where  the  writer  then  was. 

The  writer  remembers  now  the  scene  when  she  first 
met  this  mother  and  daughters.  It  must  be  recollected 
that  they  had  not  seen  each  other  before  for  four  years. 
One  was  sitting  each  side  the  mother,  holding  her  hand ; 
and  the  air  of  pride  and  filial  affection  with  which  they  pre 
sented  her  was  touching  to  behold.  After  being  presented 
to  the  writer,  she  again  sat  down  between  them,  took 
a  hand  of  each,  and  looked  very  earnestly  first  on  one  and 
then  on  the  other  ;  and  then,  looking  up,  said,  with  a  smile, 
"  Oh,  these  children,  —  how  they  do  lie  round  our  hearts  !  " 

She  then  explained  to  the  writer  all  her  sorrows  and 
anxieties  for  the  younger  children.  "  Now,  madam,"  she 
says,  "  that  man  that  keeps  the  great  trading-house  at  Al 
exandria,  that  man"  she  said,  with  a  strong,  indignant 
expression,  "  has  sent  to  know  if  there  's  any  more  of  my 
children  to  be  sold.  That  man  said  he  wanted  to  see  me  / 
Yes,  ma'am,  he  said  he  'd  give  twenty  dollars  to  see  me.  I 


A   KFAT   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  425 

would  n't  see  him,  if  he  'd  give  me  a  hundred  !  He  sent  for 
me  to  come  and  see  him,  when  he  had  my  daughters  in  his 
prison.  I  would  n't  go  to  see  him,  —  I  did  n't  want  to  see 
them  there !  " 

The  two  daughters,  Emily  and  Mary,  here  became  very 
much  excited,  and  hroke  out  in  some  very  natural  hut  bit 
ter  language  against  all  slave-holders.  "  Hush,  children  ! 
you  must  forgive  your  enemies,"  she  said.  "  But  they  're 
so  wicked  !  "  said  the  girls.  "  Ah,  children,  you  must  hate 
the  sin,  but  love  the  sinner."  "Well,"  said  one  of  the 
girls,  "  mother,  if  I  was  taken  again  and  made  a  slave  of, 
I'd  kill  myself."  "I  trust  not,  child,  —  that  would  be 
wicked."  "  But,  mother,  I  should  ;  I  know  I  never  could 
bear  it."  "  Bear  it,  my  child  ?  "  she  answered,  "  it 's  they 
that  bears  the  sorrow  here  is  they  that  has  the  glories 
there." 

There  was  a  deep,  indescribable  pathos  of  voice  and 
manner  as  she  said  these  words,  —  a  solemnity  and  force, 
and  yet  a  sweetness,  that  can  never  be  forgotten. 

This  poor  slave-mother,  whose  whole  life  had  been  one 
long  outrage  on  her  holiest  feelings,  —  who  had  been  kept 
from  the  power  to  read  God's  Word,  whose  whole  pilgrim 
age  had  been  made  one  day  of  sorrow  by  the  injustice  of  a 
Christian  nation,  —  she  had  yet  learned  to  solve  the  high 
est  problem  of  Christian  ethics,  and  to  do  what  so  few  re 
formers  can  do,  —  hate  the  sin,  but  love  the  sinner  ! 

A  great  deal  of  interest  was  excited  among  the  ladies  in 
Brooklyn  by  this  history.  Several  large  meetings  were  held 
in  different  parlors,  in  which  the  old  mother  related  her 
history  with  great  simplicity  and  pathos,  and  a  subscription 
for  the  redemption  of  the  remaining  two  of  her  family  was 
soon  on  foot.  It  may  be  interesting  to  know  that  the  sub 
scription  list  was  headed  by  the  lovely  and  benevolent 
Jenny  Lind  Goldschmidt. 

Some  of  the  ladies  who  listened  to  this  touching  story 


42G  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

were  so  much  interested  in  Mrs.  Edmondson  personally, 
they  wished  to  have  her  daguerreotype  taken  ;  both  that 
they  might  be  strengthened  and  refreshed  by  the  sight  of 
her  placid  countenance,  and  that  they  might  see  the  beauty 
of  true  goodness  beaming  there. 

She  accordingly  went  to  the  rooms  with  them,  with  all 
the  simplicity  of  a  little  child.  "  Oh,"  said  she,  to  one 
of  the  •  ladies,  "  you  can't  think  how  happy  it 's  made  me 
to  get  here,  where  everybody  is  so  kind  to  me  !  Why,  last 
night,  when  I  went  home,  I  was  so  happy  I  could  n't  sleep. 
I  had  to  go  and  tell  my  Saviour,  over  and  over  again,  how 
happy  I  was." 

A  lady  spoke  to  her  about  reading  something.  "  Law 
bless  you,  honey  !  I  can't  read  a  letter." 

"  Then,"  said  another  lady,  "  how  have  you  learned  so 
much  of  God,  and  heavenly  things  ?  " 

"  Well,  'pears  like  a  gift  from  above." 

"  Can  you  have  the  Bible  read  to  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes ;  Paul,  he  reads  a  little,  but  then  he  has 
so  much  work  all  day,  and  when  he  gets  home  at  night 
he 's  so  tired  !  and  his  eyes  is  bad.  But  then  the  Sperit 
teaches  us." 

"  Do  you  go  much  to  meeting  ?  " 

"  Not  much  now,  we  live  so  far.  In  winter  I  can't 
never.  But,  oh  !  what  meetings  I  have  had,  alone  in  the 
corner,  —  my  Saviour  and  only  me !  "  The  smile  with 
which  these  words  were  spoken  was  a  thing  to  be  remem 
bered.  A  little  girl,  daughter  of  one  of  the  ladies,  made 
some  rather  severe  remarks  about  somebody  in  the  da 
guerreotype  rooms,  and  her  mother  checked  her. 

The  old  lady  looked  up,  with  her  placid  smile.  "  That 
puts  me  in  mind,"  she  said,  "  of  what  I  heard  a  preacher 
say  once.  '  My  friends,'  says  he,  '  if  you  know  of  any 
thing  that  will  make  a  brother's  heart  glad,  run  quick  and 
tell  it ;  but  if  it  is  something  that  will  only  cause  a  sigh, 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S    CABIN  427 

bottle  it  up,  bottle  it  up  ! '  Oh,  I  often  tell  my  children, 
<  Bottle  it  up,  bottle  it  up  !  '  " 

When  the  writer  came  to  part  with  the  old  lady,  she 
said  to  her :  "  Well,  good-by,  my  dear  friend ;  remember 
and  pray  for  me." 

"  Pray  for  you  !  "  she  said  earnestly.  "  Indeed  I  shall, 
—  I  can't  help  it.'7  She  then,  raising  her  ringer,  said,  in 
an  emphatic  tone,  peculiar  to  the  old  of  her  race,  "  Tell  you 
what !  we  never  gets  no  good  bread  ourselves  till  we  begins 
to  ask  for  our  brethren." 

The  writer  takes  this  opportunity  to  inform  all  those 
friends,  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  who  generously 
contributed  for  the  redemption  of  these  children,  that  they 
are  at  last  free  ! 

The  following  extract  from  the  letter  of  a  lady  in  Wash 
ington  may  be  interesting  to  them  :  — 

"  I  have  seen  the  Edmondson  parents,  —  Paul  and  his  wife 
Milly.  I  have  seen  the  free  Edmondsons,  —  mother,  son,  and 
daughter,  —  the  very  day  after  the  great  era  of  free  life  com 
menced,  while  yet  the  inspiration  was  on  them,  while  the 
mother's  face  was  all  light  and  love,  the  father's  eyes  moistened 
and  glistening  with  tears,  the  son  calm  in  conscious  manhood 
and  responsibility,  the  daughter  (not  more  than  fifteen  years 
old,  I  think)  smiling  a  delightful  appreciation  of  joy  in  the 
present  and  hope  in  the  future,  thus  suddenly  and  completely 
unfolded." 


CHAPTER  VII 

[The  case  of  Emily  Russell.] 

CHAPTER  VIII 

KIDNAPPING 


428  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

CHAPTER   IX 

SLAVES    AS    THEY    ARE,    ON    TESTIMONY    OF    OWNERS 

The  investigation  into  the  actual  condition  of  the  slave 
population  at  the  South  is  beset  with  many  difficulties.  So 
many  things  are  said  pro  and  con,  —  so  many  said  in  one 
connection  and  denied  in  another,  —  that  the  effect  is  very 
confusing. 

Thus,  we  are  told  that  the  state  of  the  slaves  is  one  of  bliss 
ful  contentment ;  that  they  would  not  take  freedom  as  a  gift ; 
that  their  family  relations  are  only  now  and  then  invaded  ; 
that  they  are  a  stupid  race,  almost  sunk  to  the  condition  of 
animals  ;  that  generally  they  are  kindly  treated,  etc.,  etc. 

In  reading  over  some  two  hundred  Southern  newspapers 
this  fall,  the  author  has  been  struck  with  the  very  graphic 
and  circumstantial  pictures,  which  occur  in  all  of  them,  de 
scribing  fugitive  slaves.  From  these  descriptions  one  may 
learn  a  vast  many  things.  The  author  will  here  give  an 
assortment  of  them,  taken  at  random.  It  is  a  commentary 
on  the  contented  state  of  the  slave  population  that  the 
writer  finds  two  or  three  always,  and  often  many  more,  in 
every  one  of  the  hundreds  of  Southern  papers  examined. 

In  reading  the  following  little  sketches  of  "  slaves  as 
they  are,"  let  the  reader  notice  :  — 

1.  The  color  and  complexion  of  the  majority  of  them. 

2.  That  it  is  customary  either  to  describe  slaves  by  some 
scar,  or  to  say  " No  scars  recollected" 

3.  The  intelligence  of  the  parties  advertised. 

4.  The  number  that  say  they  are  free  that  are  to  be 
sold  to  pay  jail-fees. 

Every  one  of  these  slaves  has  a  history,  —  a  history  of 
woe  and  crime,  degradation,  endurance,  and  wrong.  Let 
us  open  the  chapter  :  — 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  429 

"  South-side  Democrat/7  October  28,  1852.  Petersburgh, 
Virginia :  — 

REWARD. 

Twenty-five  dollars,  with  the  payment  of  all  necessary  ex 
penses,  will  be  given  for  the  apprehension  and  delivery  of  my 
man  CHARLES,  if  taken  on  the  Appomattox  River,  or  within 
the  precincts  of  Petersburgh.  He  ran  off  about  a  week  ago, 
and  if  he  leaves  the  neighborhood,  will  no  doubt  make  for 
Farmville  and  Petersburgh.  He  is  a  mulatto,  rather  below  the 
medium  height  and  size,  but  well  proportioned,  and  very  active 
and  sensible.  He  is  aged  about  27  years,  has  a  mild,  submis 
sive  look,  and  will,  no  doubt,  show  the  marks  of  a  recent  whipping, 
if  taken.  He  must  be  delivered  to  the  care  of  Peebles,  White, 
Davis  &  Co.  R.  H.  DE  JARNETT, 

Oct.  25 — 3t.  Lunenburgh. 

Poor    Charles  !  —  mulatto  !  —  has    a    mild,   submissive 
look,  and  will  probably  show  marks  of  a  recent  whipping  ! 
"  Kosciusko  Chronicle/'  November  24,  1852 :  — 

COMMITTED 

To  the  Jail  of  Attila  County,  on  the  8th  instant,  a  negro  boy, 
who  calls  his  name  GREEN,  and  says  he  belongs  to  James 
Gray,  of  Winston  County.  Said  boy  is  about  20  years  old,  yel 
low  complexion,  round  face,  lias  a  scar  on  his  face,  one  on  his  left 
thigh,  and  one  in  his  left  hand,  is  about  5  feet  6  inches  high. 
Had  on  when  taken  up  a  cotton  check  shirt,  Linsey  pants,  new 
cloth  cap,  and  was  riding  a  large  roan  horse  about  12  or  14 
years  old  and  thin  in  order.  The  owner  is  requested  to  come 
forward,  prove  property,  pay  charges,  and  take  him  away,  or  he 
will  be  sold  to  pay  charges. 

E.  B.  SANDERS,  Jailer  A.  C. 

Oct.  12,  1842.  n!2tf. 

"  Capitolian  Vis-a-Vis,"  West  Baton  Eouge,  November  1, 
1852  :  - 

$100     REWARD. 

RUNAWAY  from  the  subscriber,  in  Randolph  County  on  the 
18th  of  October,  a  yellow  boy,  named  JIM.  This  boy  is  19 
years  old,  a  light  mulatto  with  dirty  sunburnt  hair  inclined  to  be 
straight ;  he  is  just  5  feet  7  inches  high,  and  slightly  made.  He 


430  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

had  on  when  he  left  a  black  cloth  cap,  black  cloth  pantaloons, 
a  plaided  sack  coat,  a  fine  shirt,  and  brogan  shoes.  One  hun 
dred  dollars  will  be  paid  for  the  recovery  of  the  above-described 
boy,  if  taken  out  of  the  State,  or  fifty  dollars  if  taken  in  the 
State.  MRS.  S.  P.  HALL. 

Huntsville,  Mo. 
Nov.  4,  1852. 

"  American  Baptist,"  December  20,  1852 :  — 

TWENTY  DOLLARS  REWARD  FOR  A  PREACHER. 

The  following  paragraph,  headed  "  Twenty  Dollars  Reward," 
appeared  in  a  recent  number  of  the  "  New  Orleans  Picayune  :  " 

"  Run  away  from  the  plantation  of  the  undersigned  the  negro 
man  Shedrick,  a  preacher,  5  feet  9  inches  high,  about  40  years 
old,  but  looking  not  over  23,  stamped  N.  E.  on  the  breast,  and 
having  both  small  toes  cut  ojf.  He  is  of  a  very  dark  complexion, 
with  eyes  small  but  bright,  and  a  look  quite  insolent.  He  dresses 
good,  and  was  arrested  as  a  runaway  at  Donaldsonville,  some 
three  years  ago.  The  above  reward  will  be  paid  for  his  arrest, 
by  addressing  Messrs.  Armant  Brothers,  St.  James  parish,  or 
A.  Miltenberger  &  Co.,  30  Carondelet-street." 

Here  is  a  preacher  who  is  branded  on  the  breast  and  has 
both  toes  cut  off,  —  and  will  look  insolent  yet !  There  's 
depravity  for  you ! 

[More  than  fifty  similar  advertisements  are  added.] 

From  these  advertisements,  and  hundreds  of  similar  ones, 
one  may  learn  the  following  things  :  — 

1.  That  the  arguments  for  the  enslaving  of  the  negro  do 
not  apply  to  a  large  part  of  the  actual  slaves. 

2.  That  they  are  not,  in  the  estimation  of  their  masters, 
very  stupid. 

3.  That  they  are  not  remarkably  contented. 

4.  That  they  have  no  particular  reason  to  be  so. 

5.  That  multitudes  of  men  claiming  to  be  free  are  con 
stantly  being  sold  into  slavery. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  431 

CHAPTER  X 

"  POOR    WHITE    TRASH  " 

When  the  public  sentiment  of  Europe  speaks  in  tones 
of  indignation  of  the  system  of  American  slavery,  the  com 
mon  reply  has  been,  " Look  at  your  own  lower  classes" 
The  apologists  of  slavery  have  pointed  England  to  her  own 
poor.  They  have  spoken  of  the  heathenish  ignorance,  the 
vice,  the  darkness,  of  her  crowded  cities,  —  nay,  even  of  her 
agricultural  districts. 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  a  country  where  the  population 
is  not  crowded,  where  the  resources  of  the  soil  are  more 
than  sufficient  for  the  inhabitants,  —  a  country  of  recent 
origin,  not  burdened  with  the  worn-out  institutions  and 
clumsy  lumber  of  past  ages,  —  ought  not  to  be  satisfied  to 
do  only  as  well  as  countries  which  have  to  struggle  against 
all  these  evils. 

It  is  a  poor  defense  for  America  to  say  to  older  countries, 
"We  are  no  worse  than  you  are."  She  ought  to  be  infi 
nitely  better. 

But  it  will  appear  that  the  institution  of  slavery  has 
produced  not  only  heathenish,  degraded,  miserable  slaves, 
but  it  produces  a  class  of  white  people  who  are,  by  universal 
admission,  more  heathenish,  degraded,  and  miserable.  The 
institution  of  slavery  has  accomplished  the  double  feat,  in 
America,  not  only  of  degrading  and  brutalizing  her  black 
working  classes,  but  of  producing,  notwithstanding  a  fertile 
soil  and  abundant  room,  a  poor  white  population  as  de 
graded  and  brutal  as  ever  existed  in  any  of  the  most  crowded 
districts  of  Europe. 

The  way  that  it  is  done  can  be  made  apparent  in  a  few 
words.  1.  The  distribution  of  the  land  into  large  planta 
tions,  and  the  consequent  sparseness  of  settlement,  make  any 


432  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN 

system  of  common-school  education  impracticable.  2.  The 
same  cause  operates  with  regard  to  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel.  3.  The  degradation  of  the  idea  of  labor,  which 
results  inevitably  from  enslaving  the  working  class,  operates 
to  a  great  extent  in  preventing  respectable  workingmen  of 
the  middling  classes  from  settling  or  remaining  in  slave 
States.  Where  carpenters,  blacksmiths,  and  masons  are 
advertised  every  week  with  their  own  tools,  or  in  company 
with  horses,  hogs,  and  other  cattle,  there  is  necessarily  such 
an  estimate  of  the  laboring  class  that  intelligent,  self-respect 
ing  mechanics,  such  as  abound  in  the  free  States,  must  find 
much  that  is  annoying  and  disagreeable.  They  may  endure 
it  for  a  time,  but  with  much  uneasiness  ;  and  they  are  glad 
of  the  first  opportunity  of  emigration. 

Then,  again,  the  filling  up  of  all  branches  of  mechanics  and 
agriculture  with  slave  labor  necessarily  depresses  free  labor. 
Suppose,  now,  a  family  of  poor  whites  in  Carolina  or  Vir 
ginia,  and  the  same  family  in  Vermont  or  Maine ;  how 
different  the  influences  that  come  over  them !  In  Vermont 
or  Maine,  the  children  have  the  means  of  education  at  hand 
in  public  schools,  and  they  have  all  around  them  in  society 
avenues  of  success  that  require  only  industry  to  make  them 
available.  The  boys  have  their  choice  among  all  the  differ 
ent  trades,  for  which  the  organization  of  free  society  makes  a 
steady  demand.  The  girls,  animated  by  the  spirit  of  the 
land  in  which  they  are  born,  think  useful  labor  no  disgrace, 
and  find,  with  true  female  ingenuity,  a  hundred  ways  of 
adding  to  the  family  stock.  If  there  be  one  member  of  a 
family  in  whom  diviner  gifts  and  higher  longings  seem  a 
call  for  a  more  finished  course  of  education,  then  cheerfully 
the  whole  family  unites  its  productive  industry  to  give  that 
one  the  wider  education  which  his  wider  genius  demands  ; 
and  thus  have  been  given  to  the  world  such  men  as  Roger 
Sherman  and  Daniel  Webster. 

But    take  this  same  family   and  plant   them  in  South 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  433 

Carolina  or  Virginia  —  how  different  the  result !  No  com 
mon  school  opens  its  doors  to  their  children  ;  the  only 
church,  perhaps,  is  fifteen  miles  off,  over  a  bad  road.  The 
whole  atmosphere  of  the  country  in  which  they  are  born 
associates  degradation  and  slavery  with  useful  labor;  and 
the  only  standard  of  gentility  is  ability  to  live  without 
work.  What  branch  of  useful  labor  opens  a  way  to  its 
sons  ?  Would  he  be  a  blacksmith  ?  —  The  planters  around 
him  prefer  to  buy  their  blacksmiths  in  Virginia.  Would 
he  be  a  carpenter  ?  —  Each  planter  in  his  neighborhood 
owns  one  or  two  now.  And  so  coopers  and  masons. 
Would  he  be  a  shoemaker  ?  —  The  plantation  shoes  are 
made  in  Lynn  and  Natick,  towns  of  New  England.  In 
fact,  between  the  free  labor  of  the  North  and  the  slave 
labor  of  the  South,  there  is  nothing  for  a  poor  white  to  do. 
Without  schools  or  churches,  these  miserable  families  grow 
up  heathen  on  a  Christian  soil,  in  idleness,  vice,  dirt,  and 
discomfort  of  all  sorts.  They  are  the  pest  of  the  neighbor 
hood,  the  scoff  and  contempt,  or  pity  even  of  the  slaves. 
The  expressive  phrase,  so  common  in  the  mouths  of  the 
negroes,  of  "  poor  white  trash,'7  says  all  for  this  luckless 
race  of  beings  that  can  be  said.  From  this  class  spring  a 
tribe  of  keepers  of  small  groggeries,  and  dealers,  by  a  kind 
of  contraband  trade,  with  the  negroes,  in  the  stolen  produce 
of  plantations.  Thriving  and  promising  sons  may  perhaps 
hope  to  grow  up  into  negro-traders,  and  thence  be  exalted 
into  overseers  of  plantations.  The  utmost  stretch  of  am 
bition  is  to  compass  money  enough,  by  any  of  a  variety 
of  nondescript  measures,  to  "  buy  a  nigger  or  two,"  and 
begin  to  appear  like  other  folks.  Woe  betide  the  unfortu 
nate  negro  man  or  woman,  carefully  raised  in  some  good, 
religious  family,  when  an  execution  or  the  death  of  their 
proprietors  throws  them  into  the  market,  and  they  are 
bought  by  a  master  and  mistress  of  this  class  !  Oftentimes 
the  slave  is  infinitely  the  superior,  in  every  respect,  —  in 


434  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

person,  manners,  education,  and  morals  ;  but,  for  all  that, 
the  law  guards  the  despotic  authority  of  the  owner  quite  as 
jealously. 

From  all  that  would  appear,  in  the  case  of  Souther, 
which  we  have  recorded,  he  must  have  been  one  of  this 
class.  We  have  certain  indications,  in  the  evidence,  that 
the  two  white  witnesses,  who  spent  the  whole  day  in  gaping, 
unresisting  survey  of  his  diabolical  proceedings,  were  men 
of  this  order.  It  appears  that  the  crime  alleged  against 
the  poor  victim  was  that  of  getting  drunk  and  trading  with 
these  two  very  men,  and  that  they  were  sent  for  probably 
by  way  of  showing  them  "  what  a  nigger  would  get  by 
trading  with  them."  This  circumstance  at  once  marks 
them  out  as  belonging  to  that  band  of  half-contraband 
traders  who  spring  up  among  the  mean  whites,  and  occasion 
owners  of  slaves  so  much  inconvenience  by  dealing  with 
their  hands.  Can  any  words  so  forcibly  show  what  sort  of 
white  men  these  are,  as  the  idea  of  their  standing  in  stupid, 
brutal  curiosity,  a  whole  day,  as  witnesses  in  such  a  hellish 
scene  ? 

Conceive  the  misery  of  the  slave  who  falls  into  the  hands 
of  such  masters  !  A  clergyman,  now  dead,  communicated 
to  the  writer  the  following  anecdote  :  In  traveling  in  one  of 
the  Southern  States,  he  put  up  for  the  night  in  a  miserable 
log  shanty,  kept  by  a  man  of  this  class.  All  was  dirt,  dis 
comfort,  and  utter  barbarism.  The  man,  his  wife,  and  their 
stock  of  wild,  neglected  children,  drank  whiskey,  loafed,  and 
predominated  over  the  miserable  man  and  woman  who  did 
all  the  work  and  bore  all  the  caprices  of  the  whole  estab 
lishment.  He  —  the  gentleman  —  was  not  long  in  discover 
ing  that  these  slaves  were  in  person,  language,  and  in  every 
respect,  superior  to  their  owners ;  and  all  that  he  could  get 
of  comfort  in  this  miserable  abode  was  owing  to  their  min 
istrations.  Before  he  went  away,  they  contrived  to  have 
a  private  interview,  and  begged  him  to  buy  them.  They 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  435 

told  him  that  they  had  been  decently  brought  up  in  a 
respectable  and  refined  family,  and  that  their  bondage 
was  therefore  the  more  inexpressibly  galling.  The  poor 
creatures  had  waited  on  him  with  most  assiduous  care, 
tending  his  horse,  brushing  his  boots,  and  anticipating  all 
his  wants,  in  the  hope  of  inducing  him  to  buy  them.  The 
clergyman  said  that  he  never  so  wished  for  money  as  when 
he  saw  the  dejected  visages  with  which  they  listened  to 
his  assurances  that  he  was  too  poor  to  comply  with  their 
desires. 

This  miserable  class  of  whites  form,  in  all  the  Southern 
States,  a  material  for  the  most  horrible  and  ferocious  of 
mobs.  Utterly  ignorant,  and  inconceivably  brutal,  they 
are  like  some  blind,  savage  monster,  which,  when  aroused, 
tramples  heedlessly  over  everything  in  its  way. 

Singular  as  it  may  appear,  though  slavery  is  the  cause  of 
the  misery  and  degradation  of  this  class,  yet  they  are  the 
most  vehement  and  ferocious  advocates  of  slavery. 

The  reason  is  this.  They  feel  the  scorn  of  the  upper 
classes,  and  their  only  means  of  consolation  is  in  having  a 
class  below  them,  whom  they  may  scorn  in  turn.  To  set 
the  negro  at  liberty  would  deprive  them  of  this  last  com 
fort  ;  and  accordingly  no  class  of  men  advocate  slavery  with 
such  frantic  and  unreasoning  violence,  or  hate  abolitionists 
with  such  demoniac  hatred.  Let  the  reader  conceive  of  a 
mob  of  men  as  brutal  and  callous  as  the  two  white  wit 
nesses  of  the  Souther  tragedy,  led  on  by  men  like  Souther 
himself,  and  he  will  have  some  idea  of  the  materials  which 
occur  in  the  worst  kind  of  Southern  mobs. 

The  leaders  of  the  community,  those  men  who  play  on 
other  men  with  as  little  care  for  them  as  a  harper  plays  on 
a  harp,  keep  this  blind,  furious  monster  of  the  MOB,  very 
much  as  an  overseer  keeps  plantation-dogs,  as  creatures  to 
be  set  on  to  any  man  or  thing  whom  they  may  choose  to 
have  put  down. 


436  A    KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

These  leading  men  have  used  the  cry  of  "  abolitionism  " 
over  the  mob,  much  as  a  huntsman  uses  the  "  set  on  "  to 
his  dogs.  Whenever  they  have  a  purpose  to  carry,  a  man 
to  put  down,  they  have  only  to  raise  this  cry,  and  the 
monster  is  wide  awake,  ready  to  spring  wherever  they  shall 
send  him. 

Does  a  minister  raise  his  voice  in  favor  of  the  slave  ?  — 
Immediately,  with  a  whoop  and  hurrah,  some  editor  starts 
the  mob  on  him,  as  an  abolitionist.  Is  there  a  man  teach 
ing  his  negroes  to  read  ?  —  The  mob  is  started  upon  him  : 
he  must  promise  to  give  it  up,  or  leave  the  State.  Does  a 
man  at  a  public  hotel-table  express  his  approbation  of  some 
anti-slavery  work  ?  —  Up  come  the  police,  and  arrest  him 
for  seditious  language ;  a  and  on  the  heels  of  the  police, 
thronging  round  the  justice's  office,  come  the  ever-ready 
mob,  —  men  with  clubs  and  bowie-knives,  swearing  that 
they  will  have  his  heart's  blood.  The  more  respectable 
citizens  in  vain  try  to  compose  them ;  it  is  quite  as  hopeful 
to  reason  with  a  pack  of  hounds,  and  the  only  way  is  to 
smuggle  the  suspected  person  out  of  the  State  as  quickly  as 
possible.  All  these  are  scenes  of  common  occurrence  at  the 
South.  Every  Southern  man  knows  them  to  be  so,  and 
they  know,  too,  the  reason  why  they  are  so ;  but  so  much 
do  they  fear  the  monster  that  they  dare  not  say  what  they 
know. 


1  The  writer  is  describing  here  a  scene  of  recent  occurrence  in  a  slave 
State,  of  whose  particulars  she  has  the  best  means  of  knowledge.  The 
work  in  question  was  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  437 


PAET   IV 
CHAPTER  I 

THE   INFLUENCE  OF   THE  AMERICAN   CHURCH  ON  SLAVERY 

THERE  is  no  country  in  the  world  where  the  religious 
influence  has  a  greater  ascendency  than  in  America.  There 
is  no  country  where  the  clergy  are  more  powerful.  This  is 
the  more  remarkable,  because  in  America  religion  is  entirely 
divorced  from  the  state,  and  the  clergy  have  none  of  those 
artificial  means  for  supporting  their  influence  which  result 
from  rank  and  wealth.  Taken  as  a  body  of  men,  the 
American  clergy  are  generally  poor.  The  salaries  given  to 
them  afford  only  a  bare  support,  and  yield  them  no  means 
of  acquiring  property.  Their  style  of  living  can  be  barely 
decent  and  respectable,  and  no  more.  The  fact  that,  under 
these  circumstances,  the  American  clergy  are  probably  the 
most  powerful  body  of  men  in  the  country,  is  of  itself  a 
strong  presumptive  argument  in  their  favor.  It  certainly 
argues  in  them,  as  a  class,  both  intellectual  and  moral 
superiority. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  the  influence  of  the  clergy  is 
looked  upon  by  our  statesmen  as  a  most  serious  element  in 
making  up  their  political  combinations ;  and  that  that 
influence  is  so  great  that  no  statesman  would  ever  undertake 
to  carry  a  measure  against  which  all  the  clergy  of  the  country 
should  unite.  Such  a  degree  of  power,  though  it  be  only^a 
power  of  opinion,  argument,  and  example,  is  not  without  its 
dangers  to  the  purity  of  any  body  of  men.  To  be  courted 
by  political  partisans  is  always  a  dangerous  thing  for  the 
integrity  and  spirituality  of  men  who  profess  to  be  governed 


438  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

by  principles  which  are  not  of  this  world.  The  possession, 
too,  of  so  great  a  power  as  we  have  described  involves  a 
most  weighty  responsibility  •  since,  if  the  clergy  do  possess 
the  power  to  rectify  any  great  national  immorality,  the  fact 
of  its  not  being  done  seems  in  some  sort  to  bring  the  sin 
of  the  omission  to  their  door. 

We  have  spoken,  thus  far,  of  the  clergy  alone ;  but  in 
America,  where  the  clergyman  is,  in  most  denominations, 
elected  by  the  church,  and  supported  by  its  voluntary 
contributions,  the  influence  of  the  church  and  that  of  the 
clergy  are,  to  a  very  great  extent,  identical.  The  clergyman 
is  the  very  ideal  and  expression  of  the  church.  They  choose 
him,  and  retain  him,  because  he  expresses  more  perfectly 
than  any  other  man  they  can  obtain,  their  ideas  of  truth  and 
right.  The  clergyman  is  supported,  in  all  cases,  by  his 
church,  or  else  he  cannot  retain  his  position  in  it.  The 
fact  of  his  remaining  there  is  generally  proof  of  identity  of 
opinion,  since,  if  he  differed  very  materially  from  them,  they 
have  the  power  to  withdraw  from  him,  and  choose  another. 

The  influence  of  a  clergyman,  thus  retained  by  the  free 
consent  of  the  understanding  and  heart  of  his  church,  is  in 
some  respects  greater  even  than  that  of  a  papal  priest. 
The  priest  can  control  only  by  a  blind  spiritual  authority, 
to  which,  very  often,  the  reason  demurs,  while  it  yields  an 
outward  assent ;  but  the  successful  free  minister  takes 
captive  the  affections  of  the  heart  by  his  affections,  overrules 
the  reasoning  powers  by  superior  strength  of  reason,  and 
thus,  availing  himself  of  affection,  reason,  conscience,  and 
the  entire  man,  possesses  a  power,  from  the  very  freedom 
of  the  organization,  greater  than  can  ever  result  from  blind 
spiritual  despotism.  If  a  minister  cannot  succeed  in  doing 
this  to  some  good  extent  in  a  church,  he  is  called  unsuccess 
ful  ;  and  he  who  realizes  this  description  most  perfectly  has 
the  highest  and  most  perfect  kind  of  power,  and  expresses 
the  idea  of  a  successful  American  minister. 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  439 

In  speaking,  therefore,  of  this  subject,  we  shall  speak  of 
the  church  and  the  clergy  as  identical,  using  the  word  church 
in  the  American  sense  of  the  word,  for  that  class  of  men,  of 
all  denominations,  who  are  organized  in  bodies  distinct  from 
nominal  Christians,  as  professing  to  be  actually  controlled 
by  the  precepts  of  Christ. 

What,  then,  is  the  influence  of  the  church  on  this  great 
question  of  slavery  ? 

Certain  things  are  evident  on  the  very  face  of  the  matter. 

1.  It  has  not  put  an  end  to  it. 

2.  It  has  not  prevented  the  increase  of  it. 

3.  It  has  not  occasioned  the  repeal  of  the  laws  which 
forbid  education  to  the  slave. 

4.  It  has  not  attempted  to  have  laws  passed  forbidding 
the  separation  of   families,  and  legalizing  the  marriage  of 
slaves. 

5.  It  has  not  stopped  the  internal  slave-trade. 

6.  It  has  not   prevented  the  extension  of  this  system, 
with  all  its  wrongs,  over  new  territories. 

With  regard  to  these  assertions  it  is  presumed  there  can 
be  no  difference  of  opinion. 
What,  then,  have  they  done  ? 
In  reply  to  this,  it  can  be  stated,  — 

1.  That  almost  every  one  of  the  leading  denominations 
have,  at  some  time,  in  their  collective  capacity,  expressed  a 
decided  disapprobation  of  the  system,  and  recommended  that 
something  should  be  done  with  a  view  to  its  abolition. 

2.  One  denomination  of  Christians  has  pursued  such  a 
course  as  entirely,  and    in   fact,  to   free  every  one   of  its 
members  from  any  participation  in  slave-holding.      We  refer 
to  the  Quakers.      The  course  by  which  this  result  has  been 
effected  will  be  shown  by  a  pamphlet  soon  to  be  issued  by 
the  poet  J.  G.  Whittier,  one  of  their  own  body. 

3.  Individual  members,  in  all  denominations,  animated 
by  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  have  in  various  ways  entered 
their  protest  against  it. 


440  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

It  will  be  well  now  to  consider  more  definitely  and 
minutely  the  sentiments  which  some  leading  ecclesiastical 
bodies  in  the  church  have  expressed  on  this  subject. 

It  is  fair  that  the  writer  should  state  the  sources  from 
which  the  quotations  are  drawn.  Those  relating  to  the 
action  of  Southern  judicatories  are  principally  from  a 
pamphlet  compiled  by  the  Hon.  James  G-.  Birney,  and 
entitled  "The  Church  the  Bulwark  of  Slavery."  The 
writer  addressed  a  letter  to  Mr.  Birney,  in  which  she 
inquired  the  sources  from  which  he  compiled.  His  reply 
was,  in  substance,  as  follows :  That  the  pamphlet  was  com 
piled  from  original  documents,  or  files  of  newspapers,  which 
had  recorded  these  transactions  at  the  time  of  their  occur 
rence.  It  was  compiled  and  published  in  England,  in  1842, 
with  a  view  of  leading  the  people  there  to  understand  the 
position  of  the  American  church  and  clergy.  Mr.  Birney 
says  that,  although  the  statements  have  long  been  before 
the  world,  he  has  never  known  one  of  them  to  be  disputed ; 
that,  knowing  the  extraordinary  nature  of  the  sentiments, 
he  took  the  utmost  pains  to  authenticate  them. 

These  things  sufficiently  show  the  estimate  which  the 
Southern  clergy  and  church  have  formed  and  expressed  as 
to  the  relative  value  of  slavery  and  the  right  of  free  in 
quiry.  It  shows,  also,  that  they  consider  slavery  as  so 
important  that  they  can  tolerate  and  encourage  acts  of  law 
less  violence,  and  risk  all  the  dangers  of  encouraging  mob 
law,  for  its  sake.  These  passages  and  considerations  suf 
ficiently  show  the  stand  which  the  Southern  church  takes 
upon  this  subject. 

For  many  of  these  opinions,  shocking  as  they  may  ap 
pear,  some  apology  may  be  found  in  that  blinding  power  of 
custom  and  all  those  deadly  educational  influences  which 
always  attend  the  system  of  slavery,  and  which  must  neces 
sarily  produce  a  certain  obtuseness  of  the  moral  sense  in 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  441 

the  mind  of  any  man  who  is  educated  from  childhood  under 
them. 

There  is  also,  in  the  habits  of  mind  formed  under  a 
system  which  is  supported  by  continual  resort  to  force  and 
violence,  a  necessary  deadening  of  sensibility  to  the  evils 
of  force  and  violence,  as  applied  to  other  subjects.  The 
whole  style  of  civilization  which  is  formed  under  such  an 
institution  has  been  not  unaptly  denominated  by  a  popular 
writer  "  the  bowie-knife  style  ;  "  and  we  must  not  be  sur 
prised  at  its  producing  a  peculiarly  martial  cast  of  religious 
character,  and  ideas  very  much  at  variance  with  the  spirit 
of  the  gospel.  A  religious  man,  born  and  educated  at  the 
South,  has  all  these  difficulties  to  contend  with,  in  elevating 
himself  to  the  true  spirit  of  the  gospel. 

It  was  said  by  one  that,  after  the  Reformation,  the  best 
of  men,  being  educated  under  a  system  of  despotism  and 
force,  and  accustomed  from  childhood  to  have  force,  and  not 
argument,  made  the  test  of  opinion,  came  to  look  upon  all 
controversies  very  much  in  a  Smithfield  light,  - —  the  ques 
tion  being  not  as  to  the  propriety  of  burning  heretics,  but 
as  to  which  party  ought  to  be  burned. 

The  system  of  slavery  is  a  simple  retrogression  of  society 
to  the  worst  abuses  of  the  Middle  Ages.  We  must  not 
therefore  be  surprised  to  find  the  opinions  and  practices  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  as  to  civil  and  religious  toleration,  pre 
vailing. 

But  now  another  consideration  comes  to  the  mind.  These 
Southern  Christians  have  been  united  in  ecclesiastical  rela 
tions  with  Christians  of  the  Northern  and  free  States,  meet 
ing  with  them,  by  their  representatives,  yearly,  in  their 
various  ecclesiastical  assemblies.  One  might  hope,  in  case 
of  such  a  union,  that  those  debasing  views  of  Christianity, 
and  that  deadness  of  public  sentiment,  which  were  the  in 
evitable  result  of  an  education  under  the  slave -system, 


442  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

might  have  been  qualified  by  intercourse  with  Christians  in 
free  States,  who,  having  grown  up  under  free  institutions, 
would  naturally  be  supposed  to  feel  the  utmost  abhorrence 
of  such  sentiments.  One  would  have  supposed  that  the 
church  and  clergy  of  the  free  States  would  naturally  have 
used  the  most  strenuous  endeavors,  by  all  the  means  in 
their  power,  to  convince  their  brethren  of  errors  so  dis 
honorable  to  Christianity,  and  tending  to  such  dreadful  prac 
tical  results.  One  would  have  supposed  also,  that,  failing 
to  convince  their  brethren,  they  would  have  felt  it  due  to 
Christianity  to  clear  themselves  from  all  complicity  with 
these  sentiments,  by  the  most  solemn,  earnest,  and  reiterated 
protests. 

Let  us  now  inquire  what  has,  in  fact  been  the  course  of 
the  Northern  church  on  this  subject. 

Previous  to  making  this  inquiry,  let  us  review  the  decla 
rations  that  have  been  made  in  the  Southern  church,  and 
see  what  principles  have  been  established  by  them. 

1.  That  slavery  is  an  innocent  and  lawful  relation,  as 
much  as  that  of  parent  and  child,   husband   and   wife,  or 
any   other  lawful    relation  of    society.       (Harmony  Pres., 
S.  C.) 

2.  That  it  is  consistent  with  the  most  fraternal  regard 
for  the  good  of  the  slave.      (Charleston  Union  Pres.,  S.  C.) 

3.  That  masters  ought  not  to  be  disciplined  for  selling 
slaves  without  their  consent.      (Xew-school  Pres.  Church, 
Petersburgh,  Va.) 

4.  That  the  right  to  buy,  sell,  and  hold  men  for  purposes 
of  gain,  was  given  by  express   permission  of  God.      (James 
Smylie  and  his  Presbyteries.) 

5.  That  the  laws  which  forbid  the  education  of  the  slave 
are  right,  and  meet  the  approbation  of  the  reflecting  part  of 
the  Christian  community.      (Ibid.) 

6.  That  the  fact  of  slavery  is  not  a  question  of  morals  at 
all,  but  is  purely  one  of  political  economy.      (Charleston 
Baptist  Association.) 


A   KEY    TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  443 

7.  The  right  of  masters  to  dispose  of  the  time  of  their 
slaves  has  been  distinctly  recognized  by  the  Creator  of  all 
things.      (Ibid.) 

8.  That  slavery,  as  it  exists  in  these  United  States,  is 
not  a  moral  evil.      (Georgia  Conference,  Methodist.) 

9.  That,  without  a  new  revelation  from  heaven,  no  man 
is  entitled  to  pronounce  slavery  wrong. 

10.  That  the   separation   of    slaves    by   sale    should    be 
regarded  as  separation  by  death,  and  the  parties  allowed  to 
marry  again.      (Shiloh   Baptist  Ass.,  and   Savannah  River 
Ass.) 

11.  That    the    testimony    of    colored    members    of    the 
churches    shall    not    be    taken     against    a    white    person. 
(Methodist  Church.) 

In  addition,  it  has  been  plainly  avowed,  by  the  expressed 
principles  and  practice  of  Christians  of  various  denomina 
tions,  that  they  regard  it  right  and  proper  to  put  down  all 
inquiry  upon  this  subject  by  Lynch  law. 

One  would  have  imagined  that  these  principles  were 
sufficiently  extraordinary,  as  coming  from  the  professors  of 
the  religion  of  Christ,  to  have  excited  a  good  deal  of  atten 
tion  in  their  Northern  brethren.  It  also  must  be  seen  that, 
as  principles,  they  are  principles  of  very  extensive  appli 
cation,  underlying  the  whole  foundations  of  religion  and 
morality.  If  not  true,  they  were  certainly  heresies  of  no 
ordinary  magnitude,  involving  no  ordinary  results.  Let  us 
now  return  to  our  inquiry  as  to  the  course  of  the  Northern 
church  in  relation  to  them. 

CHAPTER  II 

In  the  first  place,  have  any  of  these  opinions  ever  been 
treated  in  the  church  as  heresies,  and  the  teachers  of  them 
been  subjected  to  the  censures  with  which  it  is  thought 
proper  to  visit  heresy  ? 


444  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

After  a  somewhat  extended  examination  upon  the  sub 
ject,  the  writer  has  been  able  to  discover  but  one  instance 
of  this  sort.  It  may  be  possible  that  such  cases  have 
existed  in  other  denominations,  which  have  escaped  in 
quiry. 

If  the  history  of  the  action  of  all  the  bodies  thus  united 
can  be  traced  downwards,  we  shall  find  that,  by  reason  of 
this  tolerance  of  an  admitted  sin,  the  anti-slavery  testimony 
has  every  year  grown  weaker  and  weaker.  If  we  look  over 
the  history  of  all  denominations,  we  shall  see  that  at  first 
they  used  very  stringent  language  with  relation  to  slavery. 
This  is  particularly  the  case  with  the  Methodist  and  Pres 
byterian  bodies. 

In  1850  was  passed  the  cruel  fugitive  slave  law.  What 
deeds  were  done  then !  Then  to  our  free  States  were  trans 
ported  those  scenes  of  fear  and  agony  before  acted  only  on 
slave  soil.  Churches  were  broken  up.  Trembling  Chris 
tians  fled.  Husbands  and  wives  were  separated.  Then  to 
the  poor  African  was  fulfilled  the  dread  doom  denounced  on 
the  wandering  Jew,  —  "  Thou  shalt  find  no  ease,  neither 
shall  the  sole  of  thy  foot  have  rest ;  but  thy  life  shall  hang 
in  doubt  before  thee,  and  thou  shalt  fear  day  and  night,  and 
shalt  have  no  assurance  of  thy  life."  Then  all  the  world 
went  one  way,  —  all  the  wealth,  all  the  power,  all  the  fash 
ion.  Now,  if  ever,  was  a  time  for  Christ's  church  to  stand 
up  and  speak  for  the  poor. 

The  General  Assembly  met.  She  was  earnestly  memo 
rialized  to  speak  out.  Never  was  a  more  glorious  oppor 
tunity  to  show  that  the  kingdom  of  Christ  is  not  of  this 
world.  A  protest  then,  from  a  body  so  numerous  and 
respectable,  might  have  saved  the  American  church  from  the 
disgrace  it  now  wears  in  the  eyes  of  all  nations.  Oh,  that 
she  had  once  spoken  !  What  said  the  Presbyterian  Church  ? 


A   KEY    TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN  445 

She  said  nothing,  and  the  thanks  of  political  leaders  were 
accorded  to  her.  She  had  done  all  they  desired. 

Meanwhile,  under  this  course  of  things,  the  number  of 
presbyteries  in  slave-holding  States  had  increased  from  three 
to  twenty  !  and  this  church  has  now  under  its  care  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  thousand  members  in  slave  States. 

So  much  for  the  course  of  a  decided  anti- slavery  body  in 
union  with  a  few  slave-holding  churches.  So  much  for  a 
most  discreet,  judicious,  charitable,  and  brotherly  attempt 
to  test  by  experience  the  question,  What  communion  hath 
light  with  darkness,  and  what  concord  hath  Christ  with  Be 
lial  ?  The  slave-system  is  darkness,  —  the  slave-system  is 
Belial !  and  every  attempt  to  harmonize  it  with  the  profes 
sion  of  Christianity  will  be  just  like  these.  Let  it  be  here 
recorded,  however,  that  a  small  body  of  the  most  determined 
opponents  of  slavery  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  seceded 
and  formed  the  Free  Presbyterian  Church,  whose  terms  of 
communion  are  an  entire  withdrawal  from  slave-holding. 
Whether  this  principle' be  a  correct  one,  or  not,  it  is  worthy 
of  remark  that  it  was  adopted  and  carried  out  by  the 
Quakers,  —  the  only  body  of  Christians  involved  in  this 
evil  who  have  ever  succeeded  in  freeing  themselves  from  it. 

Who  is  the  real,  who  is  the  true  and  noble  lover  of  the 
South  ?  —  they  who  love  her  with  all  these  faults  and  in- 
cumbrances,  or  they  who  fix  their  eyes  on  the  bright  ideal 
of  what  she  might  be,  and  say  that  these  faults  are  no  proper 
part  of  her  ?  Is  it  true  love  to  a  friend  to  accept  the  rav 
ings  of  insanity  as  a  true  specimen  of  his  mind  ?  Is  it  true 
love  to  accept  the  disfigurement  of  sickness  as  a  specimen 
of  his  best  condition  ?  Is  it  not  truer  love  to  say,  "  This 
curse  is  no  part  of  our  brother ;  it  dishonors  him ;  it  does 
him  injustice  ;  it  misrepresents  him  in  the  eyes  of  all  na 
tions.  We  love  his  better  self,  and  we  will  have  no  fellow 
ship  with  his  betrayer.  This  is  the  part  of  true,  generous, 
Christian  love." 


446  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

But  will  it  be  said,  "  The  abolition  enterprise  was  begun 
in  a  wrong  spirit,  by  reckless,  meddling,  impudent  fanatics  "  ? 
Well,  supposing  that  this  were  true,  how  came  it  to  be  so  ? 
If  the  church  of  Christ  had  begun  it  right,  these  so-called 
fanatics  would  not  have  begun  it  wrong.  In  a  deadly  pes 
tilence,  if  the  right  physicians  do  not  prescribe,  everybody 
will  prescribe,  —  men,  women,  and  children  will  prescribe, 
—  because  something  must  be  done.  If  the  Presbyterian 
Church  in  1818  had  pursued  the  course  the  Quakers  did, 
there  never  would  have  been  any  fanaticism.  The  Quakers 
did  all  by  brotherly  love.  They  melted  the  chains  of  Mam 
mon  only  in  the  fires  of  a  divine  charity.  When  Christ 
came  into  Jerusalem,  after  all  the  mighty  works  that  he  had 
done,  while  all  the  so-called  better  classes  were  non-com 
mittal  or  opposed,  the  multitude  cut  down  branches  of  palm- 
trees  and  cried  Hosanna  !  There  was  a  most  indecorous 
tumult.  The  very  children  caught  the  enthusiasm,  and 
were  crying  Hosannas  in  the  temple.  This  was  contrary  to 
all  ecclesiastical  rules.  It  was  a  highly  improper  state  of 
things.  The  Chief  Priests  and  Scribes  said  unto  Jesus, 
"  Master,  speak  unto  these  that  they  hold  their  peace." 
That  gentle  eye  flashed  as  He  answered,  "  I  TELL  YOU,  IF 

THESE  SHOULD  HOLD  THEIR  PEACE,  THE  VERY  STONES 
WOULD  CRY  OUT." 

Suppose  a  fire  bursts  out  in  the  streets  of  Boston,  while 
the  regular  conservators  of  the  city,  who  have  the  keys  of 
the  fire-engines,  and  the  regulation  of  fire-companies,  are 
sitting  together  in  some  distant  part  of  the  city,  consulting 
for  the  public  good.  The  cry  of  fire  reaches  them,  but  they 
think  it  a  false  alarm.  The  fire  is  no  less  real,  for  all  that. 
It  burns,  and  rages,  and  roars,  till  everybody  in  the  neigh 
borhood  sees  that  something  must  be  done.  A  few  stout 
leaders  break  open  the  doors  of  the  engine-houses,  drag  out 
the  engines,  and  begin,  regularly  or  irregularly,  playing  on 
the  fire.  But  the  destroyer  still  advances.  Messengers 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  447 

come  in  hot  haste  to  the  hall  of  these  deliberators,  and,  in 
the  unselect  language  of  fear  and  terror,  revile  them  for  not 
coming  out. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  says  a  decorous  leader  of  the  hody,  "  what 
horrible  language  these  men  use !  " 

"  They  show  a  very  bad  spirit/'  remarks  another  ;  "  we 
can't  possibly  join  them  in  such  a  state  of  things." 

Here  the  more  energetic  members  of  the  body  rush  out, 
to  see  if  the  thing  be  really  so  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  come 
back,  if  possible  more  earnest  than  the  others. 

"Oh,  there  is  a  fire  ! — a  horrible,  dreadful  fire!  The 
city  is  burning,  —  men,  women,  children,  all  burning,  per 
ishing  !  Come  out,  come  out !  As  the  Lord  liveth,  there 
is  but  a  step  between  us  and  death ! " 

"  I  am  not  going  out ;  everybody  that  goes  gets  crazy," 
says  one. 

"  I  've  noticed,"  says  another,  "  that  as  soon  as  anybody 
goes  out  to  look,  he  gets  just  so  excited,  —  I  won't  look." 

But  by  this  time  the  angry  fire  has  burned  into  their  very 
neighborhood.  The  red  demon  glares  into  their  windows. 
And  now,  fairly  aroused,  they  get  up  and  begin  to  look  out. 

"  Well,  there  is  a  fire,  and  no  mistake  !  "  says  one. 

"  Something  ought  to  be  done,"  says  another. 

"  Yes,"  says  a  third  ;  "  if  it  was  n't  for  being  mixed  up 
with  such  a  crowd  and  rabble  of  folks,  I  'd  go  out." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  says  another,  "  there  are  women 
in  the  ranks,  carrying  pails  of  water  !  There,  one  woman 
is  going  up  a  ladder  to  get  those  children  out.  What  an 
indecorum  !  If  they  'd  manage  this  matter  properly,  we 
would  join  them." 

And  now  come  lumbering  over  from  Charlestown  the 
engines  and  fire-companies. 

"  What  impudence  of  Charlestown,"  say  these  men,  "  to 
be  sending  over  here,  — just  as  if  we  could  not  put  our  own 
fires  out !  They  have  fires  over  there,  as  much  as  we  do." 


448  A    KEY   TO   UNCLE    TOM'S   CABIN 

And  now  the  flames  roar  and  burn,  and  shake  hands 
across  the  streets.  They  leap  over  the  steeples,  and  glare 
demoniacally  out  of  the  church  windows. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  DO  SOMETHING  ! "  is  the  cry. 
"  Pull  down  the  houses  !  Blow  up  those  blocks  of  stores 
with  gunpowder !  Anything  to  stop  it." 

"  See,  now,  what  ultra,  radical  measures  they  are  going 
at,"  says  one  of  these  spectators. 

Brave  men,  who  have  rushed  into  the  thickest  of  the  fire, 
come  out,  and  fall  dead  in  the  street. 

"  They  are  impracticable  enthusiasts.  They  have  thrown 
their  lives  away  in  foolhardiness,"  says  another. 

So,  church  of  Christ,  burns  that  awful  fire  !  Evermore 
burning,  burning,  burning,  over  church  and  altar  ;  burning 
over  senate  house  and  forum ;  burning  up  liberty,  burning 
up  religion  !  No  earthly  hands  kindled  that  fire.  From 
its  sheeted  flame  and  wreaths  of  sulphurous  smoke  glares 
out  upon  thee  the  eye  of  that  ENEMY  who  was  a  murderer 
from  the  beginning.  It  is  a  fire  that  BURNS  TO  THE  LOW 
EST  HELL  ! 

Church  of  Christ,  there  u-a.s  an  hour  when  this  fire  might 
have  been  extinguished  by  thee.  Now,  thou  standest  like 
a  mighty  man  astonished,  —  like  a  mighty  man  that  cannot 
save.  But  the  Hope  of  Israel  is  not  dead.  The  Saviour 
thereof  in  time  of  trouble  is  yet  alive. 

If  every  church  in  our  land  were  hung  with  mourning,  — 
if  every  Christian  should  put  on  sackcloth,  —  if  "  the  priest 
should  weep  between  the  porch  and  the  altar,"  and  say, 
"  Spare  thy  people,  0  Lord,  and  give  not  thy  heritage  to 
reproach  !  "  —  that  were  not  too  great  a  mourning  for  such 
a  time  as  this. 

Oh,  church  of  Jesus  !  consider  what  hath  been  said  in  the 
midst  of  thee.  What  a  heresy  hast  thou  tolerated  in  thy 
bosom  !  Thy  God  the  defender  of  slavery  !  —  thy  God  the 
patron  of  slave-law  !  Thou  hast  suffered  the  character  of 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  449 

thy  God  to  be  slandered.  Thou  hast  suffered  false  witness 
against  thy  Redeemer  and  thy  Sanctifier.  The  Holy  Trinity 
of  heaven  has  been  foully  traduced  in  the  midst  of  thee  ; 
and  that  God  whose  throne  is  awful  in  justice  has  been 
made  the  patron  and  leader  of  oppression. 


CHAPTER  HI 

MARTYRDOM 

[The  case  of  Lovejoy.] 

CHAPTER  IV 

SERVITUDE    IN    THE    PRIMITIVE    CHURCH    COMPARED 
WITH    AMERICAN    SLAVERY 

CHAPTER  V 

TEACHINGS    AND    CONDITION    OF    THE    APOSTLES 

CHAPTER  VI 

APOSTOLIC  TEACHING  ON  EMANCIPATION 

CHAPTER  VII 

ABOLITION    OF    SLAVERY    BY    CHRISTIANITY 


450  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

CHAPTER  VIII 

JUSTICE    AND    EQUITY    VERSUS    SLAVERY 

CHAPTER  IX 

IS    THE     SYSTEM    OF     RELIGION    WHICH     IS    TAUGHT     THE 
SLAVE    THE    GOSPEL  ? 

CHAPTER  X 

WHAT    IS    TO    BE    DONE  ? 

The  thing  to  be  done,  of  which  I  shall  chiefly  speak, 
is  that  the  whole  American  church,  of  all  denominations, 
should  unitedly  come  up,  not  in  form,  but  in  fact,  to  the 
noble  purpose  avowed  by  the  Presbyterian  Assembly  of  1818, 
to  seek  the  ENTIRE  ABOLITION  OF  SLAVERY  THROUGHOUT 
AMERICA  AND  THROUGHOUT  CHRISTENDOM. 

Brethren  in  the  South,  there  are  many  of  you  who  are 
truly  convinced  that  slavery  is  a  sin,  a  tremendous  wrong ; 
but  if  you  confess  your  sentiments,  and  endeavor  to  propa 
gate  your  opinions,  you  think  that  persecution,  affliction, 
and  even  death  await  you.  How  can  we  ask  you,  then,  to 
come  forward  ?  We  do  not  ask  it.  Ourselves  weak,  ir 
resolute  and  worldly,  shall  we  ask  you  to  do  what  perhaps 
we  ourselves  should  not  dare  ?  But  we  will  beseech  Him 
to  speak  to  you,  who  dared  and  endured  more  than  this  foi 
your  sake,  and  who  can  strengthen  you  to  dare  and  endure 
for  his.  He  can  raise  you  above  all  temporary  and  worldly 
considerations.  He  can  inspire  you  with  that  love  to  him- 


A  KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  451 

self  which  will  make  you  willing  to  leave  father  and  mother, 
and  wife  and  child,  yea,  to  give  up  life  itself,  for  his  sake. 
And  if  He  ever  brings  you  to  that  place  where  you  and  this 
world  take  a  final  farewell  of  each  other,  where  you  make 
up  your  mind  solemnly  to  give  all  up  for  his  cause,  where 
neither  life  nor  death,  nor  things  present  nor  things  to  come, 
can  move  you  from  this  purpose,  —  then  will  you  know  a 
joy  which  is  above  all  other  joy,  a  peace  constant  and  un 
changing  as  the  eternal  God  from  whom  it  springs. 

Dear  brethren,  is  this  system  to  go  on  forever  in  your 
land  ?  Can  you  think  these  slave-laws  anything  but  an 
abomination  to  a  just  God  ?  Can  you  think  this  inter 
nal  slave-trade  to  be  anything  but  an  abomination  in  his 
sight  ? 

Look,  we  beseech  you,  into  those  awful  slave-prisons 
which  are  in  your  cities.  Do  the  groans  and  prayers  which 
go  up  from  those  dreary  mansions  promise  well  for  the  pros 
perity  of  our  country  ? 

Look,  we  beseech  you,  at  this  mournful  march  of  the 
slave-coffles ;  follow  the  bloody  course  of  the  slave-ships  on 
your  coast.  What,  suppose  you,  does  the  Lamb  of  God 
think  of  all  these  things  ?  He  whose  heart  was  so  tender 
that  he  wept,  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  over  a  sorrow  that  He 
was  so  soon  to  turn  into  joy,  —  what  does  He  think  of  the 
constant,  heart-breaking,  yearly  repeated  anguish  ?  What 
does  he  think  of  Christian  wives  forced  from  their  husbands, 
and  husbands  from  their  wives  ?  What  does  he  think 
of  Christian  daughters,  whom  his  church  first  educates,  in 
doctrinates,  and  baptizes,  and  then  leaves  to  be  sold  as  mer 
chandise  ? 

Think  you  such  prayers  as  poor  Paul  Edmondson's,  such 
death-bed  scenes  as  Emily  EusselFs,  are  witnessed  without 
emotion  by  that  generous  Saviour,  who  regards  what  is  done 
to  his  meanest  servant  as  done  to  himself  ? 

Did  it  never  seem  to  you,  0  Christian,  when  you  have 


452  A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

read  the  sufferings  of  Jesus,  that  you  would  gladly  have 
suffered  with  Him  ?  Does  it  never  seem  almost  ungenerous 
to  accept  eternal  life  as  the  price  of  such  anguish  on  his 
part,  while  you  bear  no  cross  for  Him  ?  Have  you  ever 
wished  you  could  have  watched  with  Him  in  that  bitter  con 
flict  at  Gethsemane,  when  even  his  chosen  slept  ?  Have 
you  ever  wished  that  you  could  have  stood  by  Him  when 
all  forsook  Him  and  fled, — that  you  could  have  owned 
when  Peter  denied,  —  that  you  could  have  honored  Him 
when  buffeted  and  spit  upon  ?  Would  you  think  it  too 
much  honor,  could  you,  like  Mary,  have  followed  Him  to 
the  cross,  and  stood  a  patient  sharer  of  that  despised,  un- 
pitied  agony  ?  That  you  cannot  do.  That  hour  is  over. 
Christ,  now,  is  exalted,  crowned,  glorified,  —  all  men  speak 
well  of  Him  ;  rich  churches  rise  to  Him,  and  costly  sacrifice 
goes  up  to  Him.  What  chance  have  you,  among  the  multi 
tude,  to  prove  your  love,  —  to  show  that  you  would  stand 
by  Him  discrowned,  dishonored,  tempted,  betrayed,  and  suf 
fering  ?  Can  you  show  it  in  any  way  but  by  espousing  the 
cause  of  his  suffering  poor  ?  Is  there  a  people  among  you 
despised  and  rejected  of  men,  heavy  with  oppression, 
acquainted  with  grief,  with  all  the  power  of  wealth  and 
fashion,  of  political  and  worldly  influence,  arrayed  against 
their  cause, — Christian,  you  can  acknowledge  Christ  in 
them ! 

If  you  turn  away  indifferent  from  this  cause,  —  "  if  thou 
forbear  to  deliver  them  that  are  drawn  unto  death,  and  those 
that  be  ready  to  be  slain  ;  if  thou  sayest,  Behold,  we  knew 
it  not,  doth  not  he  that  pondereth  the  heart  consider  it,  and 
he  that  keepeth  the  soul,  doth  he  not  know  it,  shall  he  not 
render  to  every  man  according  to  his  works  ?  " 

In  the  last  judgment  will  He  not  say  to  you,  "  I  have 
been  in  the  slave-prison,  —  in  the  slave-coffle.  I  have  been 
sold  in  your  markets ;  I  have  toiled  for  naught  in  your 
fields  ;  I  have  been  smitten  on  the  mouth  in  your  courts  of 


A   KEY   TO   UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN  453 

justice  ;  I  have  been  denied  a  hearing  in  my  own  church,  — 
and  ye  cared  not  for  it.  Ye  went,  one  to  his  farm,  and 
another  to  his  merchandise."  And  if  ye  shall  answer, 
"  When,  Lord  ?  "  He  shall  say  unto  you,  "  Inasmuch  as 
ye  have  done  it  to  the  least  of  these,  my  brethren,  ye  have 
done  it  unto  me." 


BIBLIOGEAPHICAL  ACCOUNT   OF   UNCLE 
TOM'S   CABIN. 

[This  account  was  first  published  in  the  edition  of  the  book 
for  which  Mrs.  Stowe's  Introduction  was  written,  in  1878. 
Later  researches  have  brought  to  light  further  titles,  and  these 
additions  are  indicated  by  being  inclosed  in  brackets  [  ].  The 
opportunity  has  also  been  taken  to  revise  and  correct  the  origi 
nal  list.] 

BKITISH  MUSEUM,  September  14,  1878. 

DEAR  SIRS,  —  I  well  remember  the  interest  which  the  late 
Mr.  Thomas  Watts  took  in  the  story  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin," 
from  the  moment  that  he  had  read  it.  Mr.  Watts,  besides 
being  an  accomplished  philologist  and  one  of  the  greatest  lin 
guists  that  ever  lived,  never  neglected  the  current  literature  of 
his  time,  including  the  novels  and  romances  of  his  own  coun 
try  and  America.  Scott  and  Dickens,  Washington  Irving  and 
Fenimore  Cooper  charmed  him  more  than  the  dull  books 
which  great  scholars  are  commonly  supposed  to  be  always  read 
ing.  In  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe's  work  he  admired  not  only  the 
powerful  descriptions  of  life  in  the  Slave  States,  the  strokes  of 
character,  the  humor  and  the  pathos,  but  above  all  he  was  im 
pressed  with  the  deep  earnestness  of  purpose  in  the  writer,  and 
used  to  express  it  as  his  opinion  that  it  was  a  work  destined 
to  prove  a  most  powerful  agent  in  the  uprooting  of  slavery  in 
America.  No  one  in  this  country  was  better  acquainted  than 
Mr.  Watts  with  the  politics  of  the  United  States  ;  and  in  the 
war  which  eventually  ensued  on  the  subject  of  slavery,  between 
the  Northern  and  Southern  States,  he  was  always  a  consistent 
supporter  of  the  policy  of  President  Lincoln. 

Of  the  reasons  which  induced  him  to  prevail  upon  Mr.  (now 
Sir  Anthony)  Panizzi  to  make  a  collection  for  the  Library  of 
the  British  Museum  of  the  different  translations  of  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  the  extracts  given  from  his  letter  to  Professor 
Stowe  are  a  sufficient  explanation. 


456  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

At  your  desire  I  have  the  pleasure  to  forward  to  you,  as  a  sup 
plement  to  Mr.  Watts's  letter,  the  accompanying  list  of  editions 
and  translations  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  contained  in  the 
Library  of  the  British  Museum,  as  well  as  of  others  which 
have  not  yet  been  obtained.  Of  the  latter  there  is  a  Servian 
translation  which  has  been  ordered  but  not  yet  received. 

When  this  shall  have  been  added,  the  various  languages  into 
which  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  has  been  translated  will  be  ex 
actly  twenty  in  number,  —  a  copy  of  each  being  in  the  British 
Museum.  These  several  languages,  in  alphabetical  order,  are 
as  follows  :  viz.,  Armenian,  Bohemian,  Danish,  Dutch,  Fin 
nish,  Flemish  (only  a  modification  of  Dutch,  but  often  treated 
as  a  distinct  language),  French,  German,  Hungarian  or  Magyar, 
Illyrian  (by  Mr.  Watts  called  Wendish),  Polish,  Portuguese,  Ro 
maic  or  Modern  Greek,  Russian,  Servian,  Spanish,  Swedish, 
Wallachian,  Welsh. 

There  may  still  be  translations  in  other  languages,  of  which 
sure  intelligence  has  not  yet  been  obtained. 

In  some  of  the  languages  mentioned,  as,  for  instance,  in 
French  and  German,  there  are  several  distinct  versions.  A 
summary  of  these  is  given  at  the  end  of  the  general  Biblio 
graphical  List  herewith  appended. 

I  remain,  dear  sirs, 

Yours  very  truly, 

GEORGE   BULLEN. 

MESSRS.  HOUGHTON,  OSGOOD  &  Co. 

The  letter  of  Mr.  Watts  to  which  Mr.  Bullen  refers  was  ad 
dressed  to  Professor  Stowe  about  1860,  and  is  as  follows  :  — 
Extract  from  a  Letter  from  the  late  THOMAS  WATTS,  ESQ.,  Li 
brarian  of  the  British  Museum,  to  PROFESSOR  STOWE. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  It  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  striking  features 
of  the  popularity  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  that  it  has  been 
translated  into  so  many  languages,  and  among  them  into  so 
many  obscure  ones,  languages  which  it  has  been  so  hard  for 
popularity  to  penetrate.  Even  the  masterpieces  of  Scott  and 
Dickens  have  never  been  translated  into  Welsh,  while  this 
American  novel  has  forced  its  way,  in  various  shapes,  into  the 
languages  of  the  ancient  Britons. 

There  is  a  complete  and  excellent  translation  by  Hugh  Wil 
liams,  there  is  an  abridged  one  by  W.  Williams,  and  there  is  a 
strange  incorporation  of  it,  almost  entire,  into  the  body  of  a  tale 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   ACCOUNT  457 

by  Rev.  William  Rees  called  "  Aelwyd  F'  Ewythr  Robert "  (or 
"  Uncle  Robert's  Hearth  "). 

In  the  east  of  Europe  it  has  found  as  much  acceptance  as  in 
the  west.  The  "  Edinburgh  Review  "  mentioned  some  time  ago 
that  there  was  one  into  Magyar.  There  are,  in  fact,  three  in 
that  language,  —  one  by  Tringi,  one  by  Tarbar,  and  one  (prob 
ably  an  abridged  one)  for  the  use  of  children.  There  are  two 
translations  into  the  Illyrian,  and  two  into  the  Wallachian. 
There  is  one  Polish  translation,  and  an  adaptation  by  Miss 
Arabella  Palmer  into  Russian.  A  full  translation  into  Rus 
sian  appears  to  have  been  forbidden  till  lately,  lest  it  might  get 
into  circulation  among  the  serfs,  among  whom  it  might  prove 
as  hazardous  to  introduce  it  as  the  Portuguese  version  pub 
lished  in  Paris  among  the  slaves  of  Brazil. 

Of  course  the  book  exists  also  in  Danish,  Swedish,  and  Dutch 
(one  Dutch  edition  being  published  in  the  island  of  Batavia). 
In  the  great  literary  languages  of  the  Continent  the  circulation 
has  been  immense.  In  the  "  Bibliographic  de  la  France,"  at 
least  four  versions  are  mentioned  which  have  run  through  vari 
ous  editions,  and  in  the  Leipsic  Catalogue  for  1852  and  1853 
the  distinct  German  versions  enumerated  amounted  to  no  less 
than  thirteen. 

In  the  Asiatic  languages  the  only  version  I  have  yet  seen  is 
the  Armenian.  Copies  of  all  these  versions  have  been  procured 
or  ordered  for  the  British  Museum. 

It  is  customary  in  all  great  libraries  to  make  a  collection  of 
versions  of  the  Scriptures  in  various  languages  and  dialects,  to 
serve,  among  other  purposes,  for  those  of  philological  study.  I 
suggested  to  Mr.  Panizzi,  then  at  the  head  of  the  printed  book 
department,  that  in  this  point  of  view  it  would  be  of  consider 
able  interest  to  collect  the  versions  of  "  Uncle  Tom." 

The  translation  of  the  same  text  by  thirteen  different  trans 
lators  at  precisely  the  same  epoch  of  a  language  is  a  circum 
stance  perhaps  altogether  unprecedented,  and  it  is  one  not 
likely  to  recur,  as  the  tendency  of  modern  alterations  in  the 
law  of  copyright  is  to  place  restrictions  on  the  liberty  of  trans 
lators.  The  possession,  too,  of  such  a  book  as  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin  "  is  very  different  from  that  of  such  a  book  as  "  Thomas 
a  Kempis,"  in  the  information  it  affords  to  the  student  of  a 
language.  There  is  every  variety  of  style,  from  that  of  ani 
mated  narration  and  passionate  wailing  to  that  of  the  most 
familiar  dialogue,  and  dialogue  not  only  in  the  language  of  the 
upper  classes  but  of  the  lowest. 


458  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

The  student  who  has  once  mastered  "  Uncle  Tom  "  in  Welsh 
or  Wallachian  is  not  likely  to  meet  any  further  difficulties  in 
his  progress  through  Welsh  or  Wallachian  prose.  These  con 
siderations,  united  to  those  of  another  character,  which  had  pre 
viously  led  to  the  collection  by  the  Museum  of  translations  of 
the  plays  of  Shakespeare,  the  Antiquary,  the  Pickwick  Club, 
etc.,  led  to  the  adoption  of  my  views,  and  many  of  these  ver 
sions  have  already  found  their  way  to  the  shelves  of  the  Mu 
seum,  while  others  are  on  the  way.  When  all  are  assembled 
the  notes  and  prefaces  of  different  translators  would  furnish 
ample  material  for  an  instructive  article  in  a  review. 

I  regret  that  my  account  of  these  versions  should  be  so  much 
less  extended  than  I  had  hoped  to  make  it,  but  the  duties  of  an 
officer  in  the  British  Museum,  especially  at  this  period  of  the 
year,  render  it  almost  impossible  for  him  to  make  any  use 
whatever  of  the  treasures  committed  to  his  charge,  which  are 
as  a  rule  as  much  closed  to  him  as  they  are  open  to  the  public. 
You  must  excuse  on  this  account  all  my  shortcomings,  and 
believe  me,  dear  sir, 

Yours  very  truly, 

THOMAS  WATTS. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  various  editions  and  translations 
of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  contained  in  the  library  of  the  Brit 
ish  Museum :  — 

I.  Complete  Texts  and  abridgments,  extracts,  and  adaptations, 
versified  or  dramatized,  of  the  original  English. 

II.  Translations,  in  alphabetical  order,  of  the  languages,  nine 
teen  in  number  :  viz.  Armenian,  Bohemian,  Danish,  Dutch, 
Finnish,  Flemish,  French,  German,  Hungarian  or  Magyar, 
Illyrian,    Italian,   Polish,    Portuguese,    Romaic   or  Modern 
Greek,  Russian,  Spanish,  Swedish,  Wallachian,  Welsh. 

In  these  are  also  comprised  abridgments,  extracts,  and  adap 
tations. 

III.  Appendix.     Containing  a  list  of  the  various  works  relating 
to  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  ;  "  also  critical  notices  of  the  work 
whether  separately  published  or  contained  in  reviews,  maga 
zines,  newspapers,  etc. 


BIBLIOGKAPHICAL   ACCOUNT  459 


I.    ORIGINAL  ENGLISH. 

Uncle  Tern's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly  .  .  .  One  hundred  and 
tenth  thousand.  2  vols. 

John  P.  Jewett  $  Co.     Boston,  U.  S.    1852.     12° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly  .  .  .  With  introductory 
remarks  by  J.  Sherman. 

E.  G.  BoJin.     London.     1852.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in  the  Slave  States  of  America. 

T.  Bosworth  (Aug.  14th).     London.     1852.    8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly  .  .  .  With  a  Preface  by 
the  Author,  written  expressly  for  this  edition. 

T.  Bosworth  (Oct.  13th).     London.     1852.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  .  .  .  With  twenty-seven  Illustrations  on  wood  by 
G.  Cruikshank,  Esq. 

J.  Cassell.     London.     1852.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.     With  a  new  Preface  by  H.  B.  Stowe. 

Clarice  $  Co.     London.     [1852.]     8° 

The  People's  Illustrated  Edition.  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in 
the  Slave  States  of  America.  With  50  Engravings. 

Clarke  $  Co.     London.     1852.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in  the  Slave  States  of  America. 
[With  a  Preface  signed  G.l 

Clarice  $  Co.     London.     1852.     12° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in  the  Slave  States  of  America. 
Third  edition.  [With  a  Preface  by  G.] 

Clarice  $  Co.    London.     1852.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in  the  Slave  States  of  America.  (The 
seventh  thousand  of  this  edition.) 

C.  H.  Clarice  $  Co.     London.    1852.    8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in  the  Slave  States  of  America  .  .  . 
reprinted  .  .  .  from  the  tenth  American  edition. 

Clarice  $  Co.     London.     1852.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  "the  Story  of  the  Age." 

J.  Gilbert.     London.     1852.     18° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin:  a  Tale  of  Life  among  the  Lowly;  or,  Pictures  of 
Slavery  in  the  United  States  of  America.  Third  edition.  Embel 
lished  with  eight  spirited  Engravings. 

Ingram,  Coolce  $  Co.     London.     1852.     8D 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  the  History  of  a  Christian  Slave.  With  an  In 
troduction  by  E.  Burritt.  With  16  Illustrations,  etc. 

Partridge  $  Oalcey.    London.     1852.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  the  History  of  a  Christian  Slave  .  .  .  With  [an 
Introduction  and]  twelve  Illustrations  on  Wood,  designed  by  Anelay. 
Partridge  $  Oalcey.    London.     1852.     8° 


460  UNCLE   TOM'S  CABIN 

Another  edition.     Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;   or,  the  History  of  a  Christian 
Slave.     With  an  Introduction  [and  Illustrations  by  H.  Anelay]. 

Partridge  and  Oalcey  (Sept.  18th).     London.     [1852*.]     8° 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in  the  Slave  States  of  America.   With 
eight  Engravings.     [With  a  Preface  signed  G.] 

Routledge  $  Co.     London.     1852.     8° 

Uncle   Tom's   Cabin;  or,    Negro   Life   in  the  Slave  States  of  America. 
Third  edition.     With  forty  Illustrations. 

;         Routledge  $  Co.  and  Clarke  $  Co.    London.     1852.     8° 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly.     With  introductory  re 
marks  by  J.  Sherman. 

J.  Snow.     London.     1852.     8° 

Second  edition.     Complete   for  seven  pence.     Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  .  .  . 
Reprinted  verbatim  from  the  American  edition.     Fiftieth  thousand. 
G.  Viclcers.     London.     [1852.]     4° 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.     Tauchnitz,  Leipzig.     1852.     16°.    Being  part  of  the 

Collection  of  "British  Authors."     Vol.  243,  44. 
CasselPs  edition  of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  [by  H.  E.  B.  S.]. 

London.    1852.     12° 
Uncle   Tom's   Cabin.      London.     1852.     8°.      Forming  Vol.   84    of    the 

"Parlour  Library." 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in  the  Slave  States  of  America.    Lon 
don.     1852.     8°.     Being  No.  121  of  the  "  Standard  Novels." 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly.    New  illustrated  edition. 

Adam  $  Charles  Blaclc.     Edinburgh.     1853.     8° 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Negro  Life  in  Slave  States  of  America. 

Clarke,  Beeton  $  Co.    London.     [1853.]    16° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly  .  .  .  With  above   one 
hundred  and  fifty  illustrations. 

N.  Cooke.     London.     1853.     8° 

Uncle   Tom's   Cabin;    or,  Life   among  the   Lowly.     Illustrated  edition. 
Designs  by  Billings,  etc. 

S.  Low,  Son  #  Co.    London.     1853.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Slave  Life  in  America.     [With  a  Biographical 
Sketch  of  Mrs.  H.  E.  B.  Stowe.] 

T.  Nelson  cf  Sons.     London,  Edinburgh,  printed  1853.     8° 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin:  a  Tale  of  Life  among  the  Lowly.     With  a  Preface 
by  the  .  .  .  Earl  of  Carlisle. 

G.  Routledge  cf  Co.     London.     1853.     8° 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.     Adapted  for  young  persons  by  Mrs.  Crowe.     With 
8  Illustrations. 

G.  Routledge  $  Co.     London.     1853.     8° 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin:  a  Tale  of  Slave  Life,  etc. 

London.     1853.     8° 

Forming  part  of  the  "  Universal  Library."    Fiction,  Vol.  I. 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  .  .  .  Standard  illustrated  edition. 

London,  Ipsicich  [printed  1857].    12° 
One  of  a  series  called  the  "  Run  and  Read  Library/' 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   ACCOUNT  461 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  .  .  .  With  a  Preface  by  ...  the  Earl  of  Carlisle.  A 
new  edition. 

Routledge  $  Sons.    London.     [1864.]     8° 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin   .    .    .    Standard  illustrated  edition.     London.    1870. 

8°.     Forming  part  of  the  "Lily  Series." 
All  about  Little  Eva,  from  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin. 

London.     1853.    12° 

All  about  Poor  Little  Topsy,  from  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin. 

London.     1853.     12° 

A  Peep  into  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  By  •"  Aunt  Mary"  [i.  e.  Miss  Low]. 
With  an  Address  from  Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe  to  the  Children  of  England 
and  America. 

8.  Low  $  Son.    London.     (Jewett  &  Co.,  Boston,  U.  S.)     1853.     8° 
A  selection  of  passages  from  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin. 

Pictures  and  Stories  from  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  (designed  to  adapt  Mrs. 
Stowe's  narrative  to  the  understanding  of  the  youngest  readers). 

Edinburgh.     1853.     4° 

The  Juvenile  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  Arranged  for  young  readers.  By 
Mrs.  Crowe. 

Routledge  $  Co.     London.    1853.    12° 
An  abridgment.     With  four  Illustrations. 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  for  Children.     By  Mrs.  Crowe. 

Routledge  $  Sons.     London.    1868.     12° 

This  is  another  edition  of  the  preceding  abridgment.     With  two  Illustrations. 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.     A  drama  of  real  life.     In  three  Acts  [and  in  prose]. 
Adapted  from  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe's  celebrated  Novel. 

London.     1854.     12° 

Contained  in  Vol.  XII.  of  "  Lacy's  acting  edition  of  Plays." 
Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.     A  drama  in  six  Acts,  by  G.  L.  Aiken. 

New  York.    1868.    12° 
Contained  in  "  French's  Standard  Drama." 


II.     TRANSLATIONS. 

(Brother  Thomas's  Cabin.     A  story  by  H.  B.  Stowe,  an  American  Lady.) 

Armenian.     2  Vols.     (Venice.)     1854.     12° 

Stryc  Tomas,   aneb   Obrazy   ze   zivota  cern/ch   otroku  v  Americe,   Z 
Anglicke"ho  pani  H.  B.  S.  [much  abridged]. 

Bohemian.     Brne  [Brunn].     1854.    8° 

Onkel  Thomas,  eller  Negerlivet  i  Amerikas  Slaverstater  .  .  .  Oversat  fra 
den  nordamerikanske  original  af  Capt.  Schadtler. 

Danish.     Kjobenhavn.    1853.    8° 

Onkel  Toms  Hytte,    eller  Negerliv  i  de   amerikanske  Slavestater  .  .  . 
Oversat  of  P.  V.  Grove. 

Danish.     Kjobenhavn.     1856.     8° 

DeNegerhut.     [Uncle  Tom's  Cabin]  .  .  .  Naar  den  20en  Amerikaanschen 
druk,  uit  het  Engelsch  vertaald  door  C.  M.  Mensing. 

Dutch.    2  Deel.    Haarlem.     1853.    8° 


462  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

Seta  Tumon  Tupa,  lyhykaisesti  kerottu  ja  kanniilla  kuvanksilla  valaistu. 
[Abridged  translation  into  Finnish  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  by  Mrs. 
H.  E.  Beecher  Stbwe. 

Finnish.     Turussa  [Abo].     1856.     obi.  4° 
De  Hut  van  Onkel  Tom,  eene  Slaven-Geschiedenis.     Naer  het  Engelsch. 

Flemish.    3  Deel.     Gent.     [1852.]     8° 

La  Cabane  de  1'Oncle  Tom,  ou  les  noirs  en  Ame'rique.  Traduction  neuve, 
corrige'e  et  accompagnde  de  notes  par  L.  de  Wailly  et  E.  Texier. 
Troisieme  Edition. 

French.    Paris.     [1852.]     8° 

La  Cabane  de  1'Oncle  Tom  .  .  .  traduction  complete  par  A.  Michiels, 
avec  une  biographic  de  1'auteur. 

French.     Paris.     1852.     12° 

La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom,  ou  Sort  des  Negres  Esclaves.  Traduction  nou- 
velle  par  M.  L.  Carion,  pre'ce'dee  d'une  dtude  sur  1'ouvrage  [by  H. 
Carion]. 

French.    2  torn.    Paris,  Cambrai  [printed],  1853.    12° 
La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom;  ou  Tableaux  de  PEsclavage  dans  les  Etats-Unis 
d' Ame'rique  .  .  .  Traduction   nouvelle   par   Old   Nick    [pseud,   i.  e. 
P.  E.  Dauran  Forgues]  et  A.  Joanne. 

French.    Pans.     1853.    8° 

La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom  .  .  .  Traduction  faite  a  lademandede  1'Auteur 
par  Madame  L.  S.  Belloc,  avec  une  preface  de  Madame  Beecher 
Stowe,  e'crite  par  elle  pour  cette  traduction,  pre'ce'de'e  d'une  notice  sur 
sa  vie  par  Madame  L.  S.  Belloc,  et  ornde  de  son  portrait  grave  par 
M.  F.  Girard. 

French.     Paris.     1853.     12° 

Mme.  H.  B.  S.  La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom,  traduite  et  accompagne'e  de  notes 
par  M.  L.  Pilatte.  Nouvelle  Edition,  revue  et  corrige'e,  augmented 
d'une  preface  de  1'Auteur  e'crite  spe*cialement  pour  cette  Edition,  et 
d'une  introduction  par  George  Sand.  Traduction  autorise'e  .  .  .  par 
Mme.  Beecher  Stowe. 

French.    Paris.     1853.     12° 

Le  Pere  Tom,  ou  vie  des  negres  en  Ame'rique.  Traduction  de  La  Be'dol- 
liere. 

French.    Paris.    1853.    12° 

La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom,  ou  vie  des  negres  en  Ame'rique  .  .  .  Tra 
duction  de  L.  Enault. 

French.    Paris.     1853.     8° 

One  of  a  series  called  "  Bibliotheque  des  Chemins  de  Fer." 

La  Case  du  Pere  Tom,  ou  vie  des  negres  en  Ame'rique.  Traduction  de  La 
BMolliere.  Nouvelle  Edition,  augmente'e  d'une  notice  par  G.  Sand. 
Illustrations,  etc. 

French.     Paris.     [1859?]     4° 

La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.  Drame  en  huit  actes.  Par  MM.  Dumanoir  et 
D'Ennery.  Repre'sente'  pour  la  premiere  fois,  a  Paris,  sur  le  Theatre 
de  1'Ambigu-Comique  le  10  Janvier,  1853, 

French.    Paris.     1859.     4° 
Contained  in  the  "  Theatre  Contemporain  Illustre"."    80«  Se"rie. 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  ACCOUNT  463 

L' Oncle  Tom .     Drame  en  cinq  actes  et  neuf  tableaux .     Par  MM .  E .  Texier 

et  L.  de  Wailly.     Repre'sente'  pour  la  premiere  fois  a  Paris,  sur  le 
Theatre  de  la  Gaite  le  23  Janvier  1853. 

French.    Paris.     1853.    8° 

Contained  in  the  Bibliotheque  Dramatique  of  Michel  L^vy.     Tome  49. 
Another  Edition.     Paris.     1859.     4° 
Contained  in  the  "  Theatre  Contemporain." 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte.     Eine  Negergeschichte.     3  Bdchen. 

German.    Berlin  und  Dessau  [printed],  1852.    8° 
Forms  Bdch.  4-6,  Jahrg.  5  of  the  "  Allgemeine  Deutsche  Volks-Bibliothek." 
Oheim  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  das  Leben  bei  den  Xiedrigen  .  .  .  Uebersetzt 
von  H.  R.  Hutten. 

German.    Boston,  U.  S.     Cambridge,  U.  S.  [printed],  1853.    8° 
Onkel  Tom,  oder  Schilderungen  aus  dem  Leben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten 
Nordamerika's  .  .  .  Nach  den  35sten  englischen  Auflage  von  J.  S. 
Lowe. 

German.    2  Bdc.    Hamburg,  Leipzig  [printed],  1853.    8° 

Onkel  Tom's  Hutte.  Ein  Roman  aus  dem  Leben  der  Sklaven in  Amerika. 
(Mit  sechs  sauberen  Holzschnitten  geziert.)  2  Bdc. 

German.    Berlin.     [1853.]     8° 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  das  Negerleben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten  des  freien 
Nordamerika  ...  In  deutscher  Auffassungsweise  fur  deutsche  Leser 
bearbeitet  von  Dr.  Ungewitter.  Dritte  Ausgabe,  mit  6  Illustrationen. 

German.     Wien  [printed]  und  Leipzig.     1853.    8° 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten  von  Amerika 
.  .  .  Mit  der  Biographic  der  Verfasserin,  und  einer  Vorrede  von  E. 
Burritt.  Vollstandige  und  wohlfeilste  Stereotyp-Ausgabe.  Neunte 
Auflage.  Nebst  Portrait. 

German.     Leipzig.     1853.     8° 

This  forms  Bd.  I  of  the  "  Neue  Volks-Bibliothek,  herausgegeben  von  A.  Schrader." 
Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte.    Aus  dem  Englischen.     Mit  6  Holzschnitten. 

German.     Berlin.     1853.     8° 

Oukel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten  Amerika' s. 
Aus  dem  Englischen.  Mit  fiinfzig  Illustrationen.  Vierte  Auflage. 

German.     Leipzig.     1854.     8° 

[Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte.     Eine  Negergeschichte. 

German.     3  Bdc.      Wittenberg.     1856.     12° 
Contained  in  the  Neuer  Haus  und  Familieuschatz.] 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  nach  dem  Englischen  .  .  .  fur  die  reifere  Jugend 
bearbeitet  von  M.  Gans.  Mit  einer  Abbildung  in  Farbendruck. 

German.    Pesth.     1853.     8° 

Forming  Bd.  1  of  the  "  Neues  Lesekabinet  fur  die  reifere  Jugend. ;' 
Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Leiden  der  Negersklaven  in  Amerika.     [By 
Mrs.  H.  E.  B.  Stowe.]    Im  Auszuge  fiir  das  Volk  bearbeitet.    Mit 
einem  Titelbilde. 

German.    Berlin.    1853.    16° 


464  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte.  Erzahlung  fur  Kinder  bearbeitet.  [From  Mrs. 
Stowe's  tale.]  Neues  Bilder  .  .  .  und  Lesebuch,  etc. 

German.     Niirnberg.     [1854  ?]     obi.  4° 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  fur  Kinder.  Nach  dem  Englischen  [of  Mrs.  Stowe] 
von  A.  Hartel. 

German.     Leipzig.     [1854?]    16° 

Tamas  Batya  Kunyhoja;  vagy,  Neger  elet  a  rabszolga  —  tarto  Amerikai 
allamokban.  B.  S.  H.  utan  Angolbol,  Irinyi  Jozsef. 

Hungarian.     2  Kotet.     Pesten.     1853.     12° 

Tamas  Batya.  Gyermekek  szamara.  Kidolgozta  M  .  .  .  Rokus.  [Brother 
Thomas.  For  Children.  Elaborated  by  Rokus  M  .  .  .] 

Hungarian.    Pesten.     1856.     8° 

Tamas  Batya,  vagy  egy  Szerecsen  rabszolga  torte'nete.  H.  B.  Stowe  utan 
irta  Tatar  Pdter.  [Brother  Thomas,  or  story  of  a  Negro  Slave.  Writ 
ten  by  P.  Tatar  after  H.  B.  Stowe.  A  versified  abridgment.] 

Hungarian.     Pest.     1857.     8° 

Stric  Tomaz  ali  zivlenje  zamorcov  v  Ameriki  .  .  .  Svobodno  za  Slovence 
zdelal  J.  B. 

Illyrian.     Celovec  [Xlagenfurt,  in  Carinthia].    1853.    8° 

Stric  Tomova  Koca,  ali  zivljenje  zamorcov  v  robnih  derzavah  svobodne 
severne  Amerike  .  .  .  Iz  ne*mskega  poslove*nil  [and  abridged]  F. 
Malavasie.  S  sterimi  podobsinami. 

Illyrian.     Ljubljana  [Laibach,  in  Carniola],     1853.     8° 
La  Capanna  dello  Zio  Tommaso ;  ossia  la  vita  dei  Negri  in  America.     Di 
Enrichetta  Beecher  Stowe. 

Italian.    Lugano.     1853.    8° 

Chata  Wuja  Tomasza,  czyli  zycie  niewolnikow  .  .  .  Przetlumaczyl. 
F.  Dydacki. 

Polish.    2  Tom.     Lwow  [Lemberg,  in  Galicia].     1853.     8° 
Chatka  Ojca   Toma,    czyli    zycie  murzyndw  w  stanach   niewolniczych 
Ameryki  Polnocnej :  romans   .    .    .  Przeklad  Waclawa  P.     Tom.  1. 
(Przeklad  I.  Iwickiego.     Tom.  2.) 

Polish.    2  Tom.     Warszawa.     1865.    8°. 

A  Cabana  do  Pai  Thomaz,  ou  a  vida  dos  pretos  na  America,  Romance 
moral  escripto  em  Inglez  por  Mrs.  H.  B.  S.  e  traduzido  em  portuguez 
por  F.  L.  Alvares  d'Andrada,  etc.  (Juizo  da  obra  por  Mine.  George 
Sand  [pseud,  i.  e.  Amantine  Lucile  Aurore  Dudevant.  With  plates].) 

Portuguese.     2  Tom.     Paris.     1853.     12° 

'H  Ka\vfly  rov  ©cojxa,  f)  6  /?i'os  riav  Mavpcov  ev  'AnxepiKjj.  Mufliaropi'a  "Epp'teTTas 
Sro.tfrjs,  ju.6Ta0pa<r06i<ra  CK  rov  'A-yY^tKoO  VTTO  I.  Kapao-ouT<ra. 

Romaic  or  Modern  Greek.    2  Vols.    'AOyvjitri  [Athens."]     1860.     8° 

Khizhina  dvadi  Toma:  roman. 

Russian.     St.  Petersburg.     1858.     8° 

Khizhina  dyadi  Toma:  povjTest,  etc. 

Russian.     St.  Petersburg.     1865.    8° 
La  Cabana  del  Tio  Tomas.     Novela  escrita  en  Ingles. 

Spanish.    2  torn.     Mexico.    1853.     12° 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  ACCOUNT  4C5 

La  Cabaiia  del  tio  Tom,  novela  .  .  .  traducida  al  Castellano  por  A.  A. 
Orihuela. 

Spanish.     Bogota.     1853.     8° 

La  Cabana  del  tio  Tomas,  6  los  Negros  en  America.  Traducida  por  los 
Redactores  del  Clamor  Publico,  £  ilustrada  con  cinco  laminas  finas 
grabadas  en  acero. 

Spanish.     Barcelona.     1853.     8° 

La  Choza  del  Negro  Tomas,  6  vida  de  los  Negros  en  el  Sur  de  los  Estado's- 
Unidos.  Novela  escrita  en  Ingles  .  .  .  traducida  al  Castellano. 

Spanish.    2  torn.     Madrid.    1853.     8° 

La  Choza  de  Tomas.  Novela  .  .  .  traducida  al  Castellano.  Edicion  ilus 
trada  con  26  grabados  aparte  del  testo. 

Spanish.     Madrid,  Paris.     1853.     4° 

La  Choza  de  Tom  .  .  .  traducida  por  W.  Ayguals  de  Izco.  Segunda 
edicion. 

Spanish.     Madrid.     1853.     4° 
Onkel  Toms  Stuga.     Bearbetad  for  Barn.     [An  abridgment  for  children.] 

Swedish.     Stockholm.     1868.     16° 
Koliba  lui  Moshu  Toma,  etc. 

Wallachian.     2  torn.     Jassy.     1853.     8° 
Bordeiulu  Unkiului  Tom,  etc. 

Wallachian.     2  torn.     Jassy.     1853.     8° 

Crynodeb  o  Gaban  'Newyrth  Tom ;  nan  Frywyd  Negroaidd  yn  America 
.  .  .  Cyfiethiedig  gan  y  Lefiad  [with  a  prefatory  notice  by  W.  Wil 
liams]. 

Welsh.     Abertawy.     [1853.]     12° 
[Caban  Newyrth  Tom'wedi  ei  Gyfeithu  gan  y  Lefiad. 

Welsh.     2  parts.     Abestawy.     [No  date.]     12° 

Caban  F'Ewyrth  Twm  .  .  .  gyda  .  .  .  gerfluniau  gan  G.  Cruikshank. 
Cyfieithad  H.  Williams. 

Welsh.     Llundain.     1853.     12° 

Caban  F'Ewythr  Tomos,  neu  hanes  caethwas  Cristnogol  .  .  .  Crynodeb  o 
waith  Harriet  Beeeher  Stowe. 

Welsh.     Caernarfon.     [I860?]     12° 


III.   APPENDIX. 

The  Key  to  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  presenting  the  original  facts  and  docu 
ments  upon  which  the  story  is  founded.  Together  with  corrobora 
tive  Statements,  verifying  the  truth  of  the  Work.  By  Mrs.  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe. 

Clarice,  Beeton  $  Co. ;  and  Thomas  Bosworth.     London.     [1853.]     8° 
A  Key  to  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  Tauchnitz,  Leipzig.    1853.     16° 

Forming  Vols.  266-67  of  the  "  Collection  of  British  Authors." 
A  Key  to  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.     Second  Edition. 

Sampson  Low,  Son  cf-  Co.     London.     1853.    8° 


466  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

La  Clef  de  la  Case  cle  1'Oncle  Tom.  Avec  les  pieces  justificatives.  Ou- 
vrage  traduit  par  Old  Nick  fojseud.  i.  e.  Paul  £mile  Dauran  Forgues] 
&  A.  Joanne. 

Pains.     1853.     8° 
La  Clef  de  la  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom. 

Paris.     1857. 

This  is  another  copy  of  the  preceding,  with  a  new  title-page  and  a  different  date. 
Schliissel    zu    Onkel    Tom's    Hiitte.      Enthaltend    die    urspriinglichen 
Thatsachen  und  Documente,  die  dieser  Geschichte  zu  Grunde  liegen. 
Zweite  Auflage. 

Leipzig.     1853.     8° 

Forming  End.  5  and  7  of  the   "  Neue  Volks-Bibliothek,  herausgegeben  von  A. 
Schrader." 

La  Llave  de  la  Cabana  del  Tio  Tom.  Traducida  de  la  ultima  edicion  por 
G.  A.  Larrosa. 

Madrid,  Barcelona  [printed],  1855.     8° 

REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  "UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN,"  SEPARATELY  PUB 
LISHED;  ALPHABETICALLY  ARRANGED  UNDER  THE  AUTHORS'  NAMES. 

Adams  (F.  Colburn).  Uncle  Tom  at  Home.  A  review  of  the  reviewers 
and  repudiators  of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  by  Mrs.  Stowe. 

Philadelphia.     1853.     12° 

Another  Edition.  London.     [1853.]    12° 

Brimblecomb  (Nicholas)  pseud.?  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  in  Ruins.  Trium 
phant  defense  of  Slavery:  in  a  series  of  Letters  to  H.  B.  Stowe. 

Boston,  U.  S.     1853.    8° 
Clare  (Edward).     The  Spirit  and  Philosophy  of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin. 

London.     1853.     12° 

Criswell  (R.).  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  contrasted  with  "Buckingham  Hall, 
the  Planter's  Home;"  or,  a  fair  view  of  both  sides  of  the  Slavery 
Question. 

New  York.     1853.     12° 

Denman  (Thomas)  Baron  Denman.  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  "Bleak 
House,"  Slavery  and  Slave  Trade.  Seven  articles  by  Lord  Denman, 
reprinted  from  the  "Standard."  With  an  article  containing  facts 
connected  with  Slavery,  by  Sir  G.  Stephen,  reprinted  from  the 
"Northampton  Mercury." 

London.    1853.     12° 

Second  Edition.  London.    1853.    12° 

Helps  (Sir  Arthur).  A  letter  on  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  By  the  author  of 
"Friends  in  Council." 

Cambridge,   U.  S.     1852.     8° 

Henson  (Josiah).  "  Uncle  Tom's  Story  of  his  Life."  An  Autobiography 
of  J.  Henson,  from  1789  to  1876'  With  a  Preface  by  Mrs.  H.  B. 
Stowe,  and  an  introductory  note  by  G.  Sturge  and  S.  Morley.  Edited 
by  J.  Lobb.  [With  a  Portrait.]  Fortieth  thousand. 

London,  1877.    8° 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   ACCOUNT  467 

Senior  (Nassau  William).  American  Slavery:  a  reprint  of  an  article  on 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  of  which  a  portion  was  inserted  in  the  206th 
number  of  the  Edinburgh  Review;  and  of  Mr.  Sumner's  Speech  of 
the  19th  and  20th  of  May,  1856.  With  a  notice  of  the  events  which 
followed  that  speech. 

London,  1856.     8° 
Published  without  the  author's  name. 

Another  Edition.  London.     [1862.]     8° 

Published  with  the  author's  name. 

Thompson  (George).  American  Slavery.  A  lecture  delivered  in  the 
Music  Hall,  Store  St.,  Dec.  13th,  1852.  Proving  by  unquestionable 
evidence  the  correctness  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  portraiture  of  American 
Slavery,  in  her  popular  work,  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 

London.     1853.     12° 


REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  OF  "UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN,"  WHICH  HAVE 
APPEARED  IN  VARIOUS  PERIODICALS  IN  THE  UNITED  KINGDOM  J 
ALPHABETICALLY  ARRANGED. 

Note.  —  Those  in  the  Welsh  language  are  printed  together  at  the  end. 

The  "  Athenceum."     London.     1852,  p.  574.    Notice. 
1852,  p.  1173.     Contrast  between  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  and  the  works 

by  Hildreth  and  W.  L.  G.  Smith. 
1859,  p.  549.     Contrasts  the  literary  merits  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin" 

and  "The  Minister's  Wooing." 

1863,  p.  78.     Notice  of  the  Influence  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 
The  "Baptist  Magazine."     London.     1852.     Vol.  44,  p.  206.     Notice. 
The  "Baptist  Reporter."    London.     1852.     N.  S.  Vol.  9,  p.  206.    Notice. 
"Blackwood's  Edinburgh   Magazine."     Edinburgh.      1853.     Vol.    74,    p. 

393.    Review  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  and  "Key." 
"The  Christian  Reformer."     London.     1853.     3d  Series,  Vol.  8,  p.  472. 

Review. 

The  "  Christian  Witness."     London.     1852.     8°.     Vol.  9,  p.  344.    Review. 
"The  Critic."     London.     1852.     fol.     p.  293.     Notice. 
"Dublin    University  Magazine."      Dublin.      Vol.   40,    Nov.,    1852.      8°. 

Review. 
"The  Eclectic  Review."     London.     1852.     8°.     N.  S.  Vol.  4.    Notice. 

Do.  Vol.  7.    1854.    Notice. 
"The   Edinburgh   Review."      London.      1855.      No.   206.      The    article 

"American  Slavery,"  written  by  N.  W.  Senior,  and  twice  reprinted 

by  the  author  with  additions. 

"  Eraser's  Magazine."    London.    1852.    8°.    Vol.46.    A  critique  by  A.  H. 
"The  Free   Church  Magazine."     Edinburgh.     1852.     8°.     N.  S.  Vol.  1, 

p.  359.    Notice. 
"  The  General  Baptist  Repository."     London.     1852.     8°.     Vol.  31,  p.  339. 

Notice. 
"The  Inquirer."     London.     1852.     fol.    Vol.  2,  p.  644.     Review. 


468  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

"The  Literary  Gazette."     London.     1852.     fol.     Notice. 

"  The  Local  Preacher's  Magazine."  London.  1853.  8°.  N.  S.  Vol.  1. 
Notice. 

"The  Methodist  New  Connexion  Magazine."  London.  1852.  8°.  3d 
Series,  Vol.  20.  Review. 

"The  Mother's  Magazine."     London.     1852.     Review. 

"The  North  British  Review."  Edinburgh.  1853.  8°.  Vol.  18.  Re 
view. 

"The  Quarterly  Review."  London.  1857.  Vol.101.  Review  of  " Dred " 
and  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 

"Sharpens  London  Magazine,"  conducted  by  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall.     London. 

1852,  1853.     8°.     N.  S.  Vol.  1.     Review. 

N.  S.  Vol.  2.    Notice,  with  Miss  Bremer's  opinion  of  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin." 

"  The  Spectator."     London.     1852.     8°.     Notice. 

"  Tait's  Edinburgh  Magazine."  Edinburgh.  1852.  8°.  2d  Series. 
Notice. 

"The  Westminster  Review."  London.  1853.  8°.  N.  S.  Vol.  4.  Re 
view. 

WELSH  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES. 

"  YCylchgrawn"  [The  Circulator].  Abertawy.  1853.  8°.  Vol.3.  Re 
view  of  Welsh  translation. 

"  Y  Diwygiwr"  [The  Reformer].  Llanelli.  1852.  8°.  Vols.  17  and  18. 
Notices  of  Welsh  translations. 

"  Y  Dysgedydd "  [The  Instructor] .  Dolgellan.  1853.  8°.  Notices  of 
Welsh  translations. 

"  Yr  Eurgrawn  Wesley aidd"  [The  Wesleyan  Golden  Treasury].  Llan- 
idloes.  1853.  83.  Vol.  2.  Review  of  Welsh  translations. 

"Y  Greal"  [The  Miscellany].    Llangollen.     1853.    83.    Vol.2.    Review. 

"  Yr  Haul"  [The  Sun].  Llanymddyfri.  18°.  Vol.  4.  Extracts  and 
Reviews. 

"  Y  Traethodydd "  [The  Essayist].  Dinbych.  1853.  8°.  Vol.9.  No 
tice. 

REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  IN  UNITED  STATES  PERIODICALS. 

"The  Literary  World."     New   York.     1852.   -fol.     Vol.10.     Review. 

"Littell's  Living  Age."  Boston.  1852.  8°.  Reviews  from  American 
and  English  Periodicals. 

"The  New  Englander."     New  Haven.     1852.     8°.     Vol.10.     Review. 

"The  New  York  Quarterly  Review."  New  York.  1853.  Vol.  1.  Re 
view. 

"  The  North  American  Review."     Boston.    1853.     8°.    Vol.77.     Review. 

"The  United  States  Review."     New  York.     1853.     8°.     Vol.1. 


BIBLIOGEAPHICAL  ACCOUNT  469 

A  Critique  in  "  Blackwood's  Magazine."  Article,  "  Slavery  and  Slave  Power  in  the 
United  States."  Thejwriter  speaks  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  as  "  A  romance 
without  the  slightest  pretension  to  truth,  and  the  foundation  of  a  wholesale 
attack  on  the  institutions  and  character  of  the  people  of  the  United  States." 


EEVIEWS  AND  NOTICES  IN  FOREIGN  PERIODICALS. 

"Boekzaal  der  Geleerde  Wereld."  Dutch.  Amsterdam.  1853.  12°.  Re 
view,  by  "J.  J.  V.  T." 

"De  Tijd."  Dutch.  '  S  Gravenhage,  1853.  8°.  Deel  17.  Notice,  with 
portrait  of  Mrs.  Stowe. 

"  Vaderlandsche  Letteroefeningen."  Dutch.  Amsterdam.  1853.  8°. 
Review. 

11  De  Eendragt."    Flemish.     Gent.  1853.     Jaerzang  7.   Review,  by  "R." 

"Revue  Critique  des  Livres  Nouveaux."  French.  Paris.  1852.  8°.  Re 
view,  by  "H.  A.  P." 

"Revue  Contemporaine."  French.  Paris.  1852.  8°.  Tome  4.  Article, 
"Les  Negres  en  Amerique,'  by  Philarete  Chasles. 

"Revue  des  Deux  Mondes."  French.  Paris.  1852.  8°.  6th  series. 
Tome  16.  Article,  "Le  Roman  Abolitioniste  en  Ame'rique,"  by 
tfmile  Montegut. 

"Blatter  fur  literarische  Unterhaltung."  German.  Leipzig.  1853.  4°. 
Band  I.  Review,  by  Rudolf  Gottschall. 

"Europa."     German.     Leipzig.     1853.     fol.     Review  and  Notices. 

"Das  Pfennig-Magazin.^     German.    Leipzig.    1852.    fol.    Notices. 

"  Unterhaltungen  am  hduslichen  Herd."  German.  Leipzig.  1853.  8°. 
Review. 

"II  Cimento."    Italian.    Torino.     1852.     8°.     Review. 


TITLES  OF  VARIOUS  EDITIONS,  TRANSLATIONS,  ABRIDGMENTS,  ADAP 
TATIONS,  KEYS,  REVIEWS,  ETC.,  NOT  CONTAINED  IN  THE  LIBRARY 
OF  THE  BRITISH  MUSEUM  AT  THE  TIME  WHEN  THE  FOREGOING 
LISTS  WERE  COMPILED. 

[Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly.  New  Edition,  with 
Illustrations,  and  a  Bibliography  of  the  Work  by  George  Bullen,  Esq., 
F.  S.  A.,  Keeper  of  the  Department  of  .Printed  Books,  British  Mu 
seum.  Together  with  an  Introductory  Account  of  the  Work. 

Houghton,  Osgood  $  Co.     Boston.     1878.     8°] 

[Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly.  New  Edition,  with  an 
Introductory  Account  of  the  Work  by  the  Author. 

Houghton,  Mifflin  $  Co.     Boston.     1885.     12°] 

[Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly.  Illustrated  by  E.  W. 
Kemble.  [With  introduction.]  2  Vols. 

Houghton,  Mifflin  $  Co.    Boston.     1891.     16°] 
[Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly.     Universal  Edition. 

Houghton,  Mifflin  $  Co.    Boston.     1892.     12°] 


470  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

[Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.     Brunswick  Edition. 

Houahton,  M'ifflin  $  Co.     Boston.     1893.     18°] 

[Uncle  Tom's  Cabin ;  or,  Life  among  the  Lowly.  With  an  Introduction 
setting  forth  the  History  of  the  Novel,  and  a  Key  to  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin. 

Houghton,  Mifflin  $  Co.     Boston.    2  vols.     1896.     Crown  8°] 
[Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.     A  Tale  of  Life  among  the  Lowly.     With  Portrait 
and  Twenty-seven  Illustrations  [woodcuts]  by  George  Cruikshank. 
Hutchinson  $•  Co.     London,     [no  date.]     8°] 

[The  Christian  Slave.  A  Drama,  founded  on  a  Portion  of  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin.  Dramatized  by  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  expressly  for  the 
Readings  of  Mrs.  Mary  E.  Webb. 

Phillips,  Sampson  <$•  Co.    Boston.    1855.     16°] 

Strejcek  Tom,  cili:  Otroctvi  ve  svobodne'  Americe.  Povfdka  pro  mlady 
a  dospely  vek,  vzdelana  die  anglicke"ho  romance  od  pani  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe. 

Bohemian.    Prague.     1853.     12°] 
[Onkel  Toms  Hytte.     Tredie  Oplag. 

Danish.     2  vols.     V.  Pio.  [Kjobenhavn  ?  ]     1876.] 

De  Hut  van  Oom  Tom,  of  het  Leven  der  Negerslaven  in  Noord-Amerika. 
Naar  het  Fransch  van  de  La  Be'dolliere,  door  W.  L.  Ritter. 

Dutch.    Batavia.    1853.     8° 

A  copy  of  this  version  is  in  the  possession  of  Professor  Stowe. 
De  Neger  hut,  of  het  Leven  der  Negerslaven  in  Amerika.     Uit  Engelsch 
vertaald  door  P.  Munnich.     Eerste  Deel. 

Dutch.     Soerabaya  [at  the  East  End  of  Java].     1853.    8° 
A  copy  of  this  version  is  also  in  the  possession  of  Professor  Stowe. 
[De  Negerhut.   (Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.)    Een  Verhaal  uit  het  Slavenleven  in 
Noord-Amerika.     Naar  den  20sten  Amerikaanschen  Druk.     Uit  het 
Engelsch  vertaald  door  C.  M.  Mensing.     Volks-Uitgave. 

Dutch.     Amsterdam.     1874.     12°] 

La  Cabane  de  1'Oncle  Tom.  Traduction  revue  par  L.  de  Wailly  et  E. 
Texier. 

French.    Paris.     1852.    8° 

La  Cabane  de  1'Oncle  Tom.  Traduction  complete  par  A.  Michiels.  2e 
Edition. 

French.    Paris.     1852.     12° 
La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.     Traduite  par  L.  Pilatte. 

French.     2  torn.     Paris.     1852.     12° 

La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.  Traduction  de  La  Be'dolliere.  Illustrations 
Anglaises. 

French.    Paris.    1852.    4° 
Another'Edition.    Pans.    1852.    large  8° 
Another  Edition.     Paris.     1852.     sm.  8° 
La  Cabane  de  1'Oncle  Tom.    Traduction  par  A.  Michiels.     3e  Edition. 

French.     Paris.     1853.     12° 
4e  Edition.    Paris.     1853.     12 J 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  ACCOUNT  471 

La  Cabane  de  1'Oncle  Tom.     Traduction  de  MM.  Wailly  et  Texier. 

French.     Paris.     1853.    4° 
2e  Edition.    Paris.    1853.     12°. 

La  Case  du  Pere  Tom.    Traduction  de  La  Be"dolliere.    Nouvelle  Edition, 
augment^e  d'une  notice  de  G.  Sand. 

French.    Paris.     1853.    12° 
La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.     Traduit  par  L.  E^nault. 

French.    Paris.     1853.    fol. 
La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.    Traduction  par  MM.  C.  Rowey  et  A.  Rolet. 

French.    Paris.     1853.     12° 
Another  Edition.     Paris.    1853.     8° 
La  Cabane  de  POncle  Tom.     Traduction  par  Texier  et  Wailly. 

French.    Paris.    1853.    4° 
Contained  in  the  "  Muse"e  Litteraire  du  Siecle."  ^ 
La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.     Traduction  de  L.  Enault. 

French.    Paris.     1853.     16° 

Contained  in  the  "  Bibliothe'que  des  Chemins  de  Fer." 
Another  Edition.     Paris.     1853.     12° 

Contained  in  the  "  Bibliothe'que  des  meilleurs  romans  Grangers." 
La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.     Traduit  par  Victor  Ratier.     Edition  revue  par 

PAbbd  Jouhanneaud. 

French.    Limoges  et  Paris.     1853.     8° 

"  Edition  modifiee  &  I'usage  de  la  Jeunesse." 

•La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.     Racontde  aux  enfants,  par  Mme  Arabella  Pal 
mer.     Traduite  de  Panglais,  par  A.  Viollet.     [With  Illustrations.] 

French.    Paris.     1853.     12° 

La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.    Traduction  de  La  BeMolliere. 

French.    Paris.     1854.    4° 
Contained  in  the  "  Pantheon  Populaire." 
La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.     Traduction  de  V.  Ratier.    Revue  par  PAbbe" 

Jouhanneaud. 

French.    Limoges  et  Pans.     1857.    12° 

La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.     Traduit  par  La  Barre". 

French.    3  vols.    Paris.     1861.     12° 

La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.     Traduction  par  Mme  L.  S.  Belloc.     Avec  une 
preface  de  Mme  Beecher  Stowe.     Orne"e  de  son  Portrait. 

French.    Paris.    1862.     12° 
Contained  in  the  "  Bibliotheque  Charpentier." 
Reprinted.    Paris.     1872.     12° 

La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.     Traduit  par  M.  L.  Pilatte.     Nouvelle  Edition, 
augmented  d'une  preface  de  Pauteur  et  d'une  introduction  par  G. 

French.    Paris.     1862.     12° 
La  Case  du  Pere  Tom.    Traduction  de  La  Be"dolliere.    Notice  de  G.  Sand. 

Illustrations  Anglaises. 

French.    Pans.     1863.    4° 

Contained  in  the  "  Pantheon  Populaire." 
Reprinted.    Paris.    1874.    4° 


472  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

La  Case  de  POncle  Tom.    Traduite  par  L.  Enault. 

French.    Paris.     1864.    12° 

Contained  in  the  "  Bibliotheque  des  meilleurs  remans  Strangers." 
Reprinted.    Paris.     1865.    12° 
Do.    Paris.     1873.     12° 
Do.     Paris.     1875.     12° 
Do.    Paris.     1876.     12° 
La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.     Traduction  de  L.  Barre". 

French.    Paris.     1865. 

[La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom;  ou,  Vie  des  Negres  en  Amdrique.     Roman 
Ame"ricain  traduit  par  Louis  Enault. 

French.    Paris.     1872.    16°] 

[La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.    Traduit  par  M.  Le"on  Pilatte.    Nouvelle  Edition, 
augmented  d'une  introduction  par  George  Sand. 

French.    Paris.     1875.     12°] 
La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.     Traduction  revue  par  E.  du  Chatenet. 

French.    Limoges.     1876.     8° 
Abre'ge'  de  1'histoire  de  1'Oncle  Tom,  a  1'usage  de  la  jeunesse. 

French.    Leipzig.     1857.     16° 

Forming  Vol.  24  of  the  "  Petite  Bibliotheque  Francaise." 

La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.     Drame  en  huit  Actes:   par  MM.  Dumanoir  et 
d'Ennery.    Musique  de  M.  Artus.     Thdatre  de  1'Ambigu  Comique. 

Paris.     1853.     12° 

La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.     Romance  tirde  du  roman  de  ce  nom,  joude  a 
1'Ambigu,  paroles  de  E.  Lecart. 

Paris.     1853.     4° 

La  Case  de  1'Oncle  Tom.     Chanson  nouvelle,  d'apres  le  drame  de  ce  nom. 
[By"L.C.»] 

Pans.    1853.    4° 
Onkel  Tom,  oder  Sklavenleben  in  der  Republik  Amerika. 

German.     Berlin.     1852.     8° 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten  Amerikas. 
Aus  dem  Englischen.    2  Thle. 

German.     Berlin.     1852.     8° 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten  Amerikas. 
Aus  dem  Englischen. 

German.    30  Lieferungen.     Leipzig.     1852.    8° 
Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte.     Uebersetzt  von  F.  C.  Nordestern. 

German.     6  Hefte.     Wien.     1852.     8° 

Onkel  Tom,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  nordamerikanischen  Sklavenstaaten. 
Uebersetzt  von  W.  E.  Dragulin. 

German.    4  Bdc.     Leipzig.     1852.     8° 
Forming  Bd.  9-12  of  the  "  Arnerikanische  Bibliothek." 

Onkel  Tom's  Hutte,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  Sclavenstaaten  des  freien 
Nordamerika.    Frei  bearbeitet  von  Ungewitter. 

German.     Leipzig.     1852.    8° 
Forming  Bd.  317  of  the  "  Belletristiscb.es  Lese-Cabinet." 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  ACCOUNT  473 

Sclaverei  in  clem  Lande  der  Freiheit,  oder  das  Leben  der  Neger  in  den 
Sclavenstaaten  Nordamerika's.  Nach  der  15  Aunage  von  Onkel 
Tom's  Cabin. 

German.     4  Bdc.     Leipzig.     1852.     8° 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  die  Geschichte  eines  christlichen  Sclaven  von 
H.  B.  Stowe. 

German.    11  Bdchen.     1852-53.    4° 
Forming  Bdchen  1871-1881  of  "  Das  Belletristische  Ausland." 
Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Sklavenleben  in  den  Freistaaten  Amerika's. 
Aus  dem  Englischen.     Zweite  Auflage. 

German.     3  Thle.    Berlin.     1853.     8°. 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  die  Geschichte  eines  christlichen  Sklaven.  Aus 
dem  Englischen  iibertragen  von  L.  Du  Bois. 

German.     3  Thle.     Stuttgart.     1853.    16°. 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten  von  Amerika. 
Aus  dem  Englischen. 

German.     Leipzig.     1853.     8°. 
Forming  Bd.  1  of  the  "  Neue  Volks-Bibliothek.;' 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten  von  Nord- 
amerika.  Mit  50  Illustrationen.  Zweite  Aunage. 

German.     Leipzig.     1853.     8°. 

Dritte,  mit  Anmerkungen  vermehrte  Aunage. 

Leipzig.     1853.     8°. 

Vierte  Aunage.     Leipzig.    1854.    8°. 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Sclaverei  im  Lande  der  Freiheit.  German. 
Dritte  Aunage.  4  Bdc. 

German.    4  Bdc.    Leipzig.     1853.     16°. 

Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Negerleben  in  Nordamerika.  Im  Auszuge  be- 
arbeitet. 

German.     Berlin.     1853.     16°. 

[Onkel  Tom's  Hiitte,  oder  Negerleben  in  den  Sklavenstaaten  von  Amerika. 
Aus  dem  Englischen  iibersetzt. 

German.     Leipzig.     1878.     16°. 
In  the  Universal-Bibliothek.] 
Onkel  Tom's  Schicksale.     Erzahlung  fur  die  Jugend,  von  Max  Schasler. 

German.    2  Bdchen.     Berlin.     1853.     8°. 

Onkel  Tom's  Schicksale.  Erzahlungen  fur  die  Jugend.  Fur  die  deutsche 
Jugend  bearbeitet  von  Max  Schasler. 

German.     2  Bdchen.     Berlin.     1853.    8°. 
Forming  Bdchen  1  of  the  "  Hausbibliothek  der  Jugend." 
La  Capanna  di  Papa  Tom.     Libera  Versions  dal  Franchese,  etc. 

Italian.     Napoli.     1853.     8V 

A  copy  of  this  version  is  in  the  possession  of  Professor  Stowe. 
[La   Capanna  dello   Zio   Tom.      Nuovo  Versione   Italiana,    Elegamente 
Illustrata  dal  Sig.  Bonamore. 

Italian.     Milano.     1883.    8°.] 


474  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

[Chata  Wnja  Tomasza,  czyli  zycie  niewolnikow  w  Zjednoczonych  Stanach 
Polnocnej  Ameryki. 

Polish.    2  Tom.     Warszawa.     1877.     32°.] 
Khizhina  dyadi  Toma,  etc. 

Russian.     Moscow.     1858.     8°. 
Khizhina  dyadi  Tom,  etc. 

Russian.     St.  Petersburg.     1858.     8  . 

Dyadya  Tom,  etc.  [Uncle  Tom ;  or,  Life  of  the  Negro-Slaves  in  America. 
A  tale  adapted  from  the  English  by  M.  F.  Butovich.  Abridged.] 

Russian.     St.  Petersburg.     1867.     8°. 
[Khizhina  dyadi  Toma:  Povyest,  etc. 

Russian.     St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow.     1874.     16°] 
Chicha-Tomina  Koliba. 

Servian.     Belgrade.     1854.    8°. 

[La  Cabana  del  Tio  Tom.    Traducida  al  Castellano  por  A.  A.  Orihuela. 

Spanish.     Paris.     1852.     16°.] 

[Onkel  Toms  Stuga,  eller  Negerlifvet  i  Amerikanska  Slafstaterna 
Ofversattning  af  S.  J.  Callerholm. 

Swedish.     Goteborg.     1873.     8°.] 
[Onkel  Toms  Stuga.     Skildring  ur  de  Vanlottades  Lif . 

Swedish.     Stockholm.     1882.     16°.] 

[Three  editions  were  also  published  between  1860  and  18G5  by  Alb.  Bonnier 
Stockholm.] 

[Aelwyd  F'Ewythr  Robert:  neu,  Hanes  Caban  F'Ewythr  Tomos.  Gan 
y  Parch.  William  Rees. 

Welsh.     Dinbych.     1853.     16°. 

[A  Key  to  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  presenting  the  Original  Facts  and  Docu 
ments  upon  which  the  story  is  founded.  Together  with  Corrobora 
tive  Statements  verifying  the  Truth  of  the  Work.  By  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe. 

John  P.  Jewett  $  Co.  Boston.     1853.     8°] 

Nyckeln  till  Onkel  Toms  Stuga.  [Key  to  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.]  Werk- 
liga  Tilldragclser  pa  hwilka  Romanen  af  samma  mamn  hwilar.  Uldrag 
efter  Mrs.  H.  Beecher  Stowe.  Ofwersatt  efter  Engelska  Originalet. 

Swedish.     Stockholm.     1853.     16°. 

[The  Southern  View  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  From  The  Southern  Lit 
erary  Messenger.  By  the  Editor  [John  R.  Thompson]. 

No  place  or  date.    8°] 

[Uncle  Tom  in  England.  The  London  Times  on  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  A 
Review  from  the  London  Times  of  Friday,  September  3d,  1852. 

Bunce  $  Bro.    New  YorJc.     1852.     8°,  paper] 

[Uncle  Tom  in  Paris ;  or,  Views  of  Slavery  Outside  the  Cabin .  Together 
with  Washington's  Views  of  Slavery,  now  for  the  first  Time  Pub 
lished.  By  Adolphus  M.  Hart.  [Also  containing  the  London  Times 
RevieAv  of  September  3d,  1852.] 

William  Taylor  $  Co.    Baltimore.     1854.     12°] 

[Notes  on  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin:  Being  a  Logical  Answer  to  the  Allegations 
and  Inferences  against  Slavery  as  an  Institution.  With  a  supple- 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   ACCOUNT  475 

mentary  note  on  the  Key,  and  an  Appendix  of  Authorities.  By  the 
Rev.  E.  J.  Stearns,  A.  M.,  Late  Professor  in  St.  John's  College,  An 
napolis,  Md. 

Lippincott,  Grambo  $  Co.    Philadelphia.     1853.     16°] 

[Father  Henson's  Story  of  his  own  Life.     With  an  Introduction  by  Mrs. 
H.  B.  Stowe. 

John  P.  Jewett  $  Co.     Boston.     1858.     12° 

While  Josiah  Henson  was  not  really  the  original  of  Uncle  Tom  (the 
latter  being  an  entirely  imaginary  character),  yet  his  life  was  in 
many  respects  a  parallel  to  that  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  hero.] 

[Reviews  in  Leading  Periodicals  as  follows :  — 

Prospective  Review.      London.      1852.      Vol.   8.    p.    490. 1853. 

Vol.  9.  p.  248. 

Chambers's  Edinburgh  Journal.     Edinburgh.     1852.     Vol.   19.     pp. 

155,187. 1853.    Vol.19,     p.  85. 

Southern  Literary  Messenger.     Richmond.     1852.     Vol.  18.  pp.  620, 

721. 1853.    Vol.19,    p.  321. 

Southern  Quarterly  Review.    Charleston,  S.  C.    1853.    Vol.  23.  p.  81. 

—  1854.     Vol.24,     p.  214. 

Christian  Observer.     London.     1852.    Vol.  52.     p.  695. 

Irish  Quarterly  Review.     Dublin.     1856.     Vol.  6.     p.  766. 

Western  Journal  and  Civilian.     St.  Louis.     1853.     Vol.  9.     p.  133. 

—  Vol.  10.     p.  319  (A.  Beatty). 

Putnam's  Monthly  Magazine.     Neio   York.     1853.     Vol.  1.     p.  97. 

("Success  of  U.  T.  C.") 

Atlantic  Monthly.    Boston.     1879.    Vol.43,    p.  407  (W.  D.  Howells). 

1896.    Vol.  78.   p.  311  ("The  Story  of  U.  T.  C.,"    by  C.  D. 

Warner). 

Manhattan.     New  York.     1882.     Vol.  1.     p.  28  (W.  H.  Forman). 
Andover  Review.   Boston.    1885.    Vol.4,   p.  363.    ("Is  it  a  Novel?") 
Magazine  of  American  History.     New  York.     1890.    Vol.  23.     p.  16 
(F/Y.  McCray). 

Magazine  of  Western  History.  New  York.  1890.  Vol.  12.  p.  24. 
("Origin  of  U.  T.  C.,"  by  H.  D.  Teetor.) 

[Discourses  on  Special   Occasions   and  Miscellaneous  Papers.      By  Cor 
nelius  Van  Santvoord. 

M.  W.  Dodd,  New  York.    1856.     12° 
Contains  a  chapter  entitled  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  and  Colonization."] 


SUMMARY. 

FROM  the  foregoing  it  will  be  seen  that  in  the  Library  of 
the  British  Museum  there  are  35  editions  of  the  original 
English,  the  complete  text,  and  9  of  abridgments  or  adapta 
tions. 

Of  translations  in   different  languages  there   are  19 :   viz. 


476  UNCLE   TOM'S   CABIN 

Armenian,  1 ;  Bohemian,  1 ;  Danish,  2  distinct  versions ;  Dutch 
1 ;  Finnish,  1 ;  Flemish,  1 ;  French,  8  distinct  versions  and  2 
dramas ;  German,  5  distinct  versions  an^  4  abridgments  ; 
Hungarian,  1  complete  version,  1  for  children,  and  1  versified 
abridgment ;  Illyrian,  2  distinct  versions  ;  Italian,  1 ;  Polish,  2 
distinct  versions ;  Portuguese,  1 ;  Romaic  or  Modern  Greek,  1 ; 
Russian,  2  distinct  versions;  Spanish,  6  distinct  versions; 
Swedish,  1  abridgment  for  children;  Wallachian,  2  distinct 
versions ;  Welsh,  3  distinct  versions. 

Of  the  "  Key  to  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  there  are  3  editions  in 
English,  2  in  French,  1  in  German,  and  1  in  Spanish. 

Of  works  on  the  subject  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  separately 
published,  there  are  9. 

Of  Reviews  and  Notices  of  it  in  Periodicals  there  are  49 : 
viz.  31  for  the  United  Kingdom,  of  which  7  are  Welsh  ;  6  for 
the  United  States ;  and  12  for  other  countries. 

This  list  is,  however,  by  no  means  complete. 

Of  Translations,  etc.,  not  in  the  British  Museum  list,  there 
are :  Bohemian,  1,  a  distinct  version  from  that  mentioned 
above ;  Danish,  1 ;  Dutch,  2 ;  French,  5  distinct  versions,  1 
drama,  and  a  chanson  ;  German,  4  distinct  versions ;  Italian,  2 ; 
Polish,  1 ;  Russian,  3  distinct  versions  and  1  abridgment ; 
Servian,  1 ;  Swedish,  3  and  a  translation  of  the  "  Key ; "  and 
Welsh,  1. 

[Of  English  editions,  adaptations,  reviews,  etc.,  not  in  the 
British  Museum  list,  there  are  6  complete  editions,  1  drama 
tization  of  a  portion,  1  edition  of  the  "Key,"  1  edition  of 
Father  Henson's  Life,  4  reviews  published  separately,  4  re 
views  in  British  periodicals,  and  9  reviews  in  American  peri 
odicals.] 


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